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ELIZABETH  •  W  •  CHAMPNEY 


By  ELIZABETH  W.  CHAMPNEY 


ROMANCE   OF  THE  FEUDAL  CHATEAUX. 

ROMANCE   OF  THE    RENAISSANCE    CHA- 
TEAUX. 

ROMANCE  OF  THE  BOURBON  CHATEAUX. 
ROMANCE  OF  THE  FRENCH  ABBEYS. 
ROMANCE  OF  THE  ITALIAN  VILLAS. 


ROMANCE  OF 
THE  FEUDAL  CHATEAUX 


BY 
ELIZABETH  W.  CHAMPNEY 


ILLUSTRATED 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

NEW   YORK  &   LONDON 

ubc  fmtcfcerbocfcer  press 

1908 


COPYRIGHT,  1899 

BY 

ELIZABETH  W.  CHAMPNEY 
Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London 

Published,  November,  1898 

Reprinted,  March,  1902  ;   February,  1903 ;  December,  1903  ; 
April,  1905 ;  June,  1906 


Vbe  ftnfcfcerbocber  pree«,  Hew  Borb 


TO  MY  HUSBAND 

Who  has  made  all  my  privileges  possible  ;  and  who  long 
ago  discovered  the  Enchanted  Castle  of  Merlin,  invisible 
and  indestructible,  "in  which  we  live,  without  (to  our  own 
knowledge)  growing  old,  or  parting,  or  ceasing  to  love  one 
another," — this  book,  the  gathering  of  a  happy  life,  is 
dedicated  by 


ELIZABETH  W.  CHAMPNEY. 


FOREST  OF  BROECILIANDE, 
May  istA,  1899. 


Cloitres  poudreux,  salles  antiques, 
Ou  gemissaient  les  saints  cantiques 
Ou  riaent  les  banquets  joyeux  ! 
Lieux  ou  le  cozur  met  ses  chimeres  / 
Eglises  ou  priaient  nos  meres  ! 
Tours  ou  combattaient  nos  aieux  / 

O  debris,  ruines  de  France, 
Que  notre  amour  en  vain  defend! 
Les  jours  de  joie  ou  de  souff ranee, 
Vieux  monuments  d'un  peuple  enfant / 

Mes  pas  errants  cherchent  la  trace 
De  ces  fiers  guerriers  dont  Vaudace 
Faisait  un  trbne  d"un  pavois  ; 
Je  demande,  oubliant  les  heures, 
Au  viel  echo  de  leurs  demeures 
Ce  qui  lui  reste  de  leur  voix. 

Les  forteresses  ecroulle'es, 
Pas  la  chevre  errante  foule'es, 
Courbent  leurs  t$tes  de  granit ; 
Restes  qu'on  aime  et  qu'on  ve"rilre  ! 
L'aigle  a  leurs  tours  suspend  son  airey 
L' hirondelle  y  cache  son  nid. 

VICTOR  HUGO. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER 

INTRODUCTION 

I.  —  TREASURE-TROVE      .... 
II.  —  ANGERS,  THE  MOTHER  CASTLE  . 

III.  —  A  CASTLE  OF  THE  SEA    .         .         . 

(Mont  St.   Michel) 

IV.  —  A  FOOL'S  ERRANDS          .         .         . 

(Falaise  and  Caen) 
V.  —  HAREBELLS  AND  BROOM  ... 

(The  Spectres  of  Chinon) 

VI.  —  THE  LODESTONES  OF  LOVE       .         . 

VII.  —  THE  SIEGE  OF  CHATEAU  GAILLARD 

VIII.  —  THE  WAR  OF  THE  THREE  JOANS     . 

IX.  —  THE  STORY  OF  CHATEAU  JOSSELIN  . 

X.  —  GUYONNE  DE  LAVAL        .         .         . 

INTERLUDE       .         .         .         .         . 

XL  —  THE  SECRET  CHAMBER     ... 

(Coucy  and  Pierrefonds) 
XII.  —  THE  AFTERWORD 


PAGE 

i 

40 

74 
in 

151 
209 

241 
285 
337 
354 

371 

391 

400 

426 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

IN  PHOTOGRAVURE 

Page 

Chdteaudun  .  .  .  Frontispiece 
Mont  St.  Michel 112 

Chdteau     Falaise  —  View    from     Mont 

Myra 152 

Chdteau  Gaillard  .....     286 
The  Falconer  s  Recital    ....     332 

By  permission  of  the  American  Art  Association. 

Chdteau  Josselin  ..... 
Chdteau  Laval  ..... 
Chdteau  Pierrefonds  .... 


vii 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

OTHER  THAN  PHOTOGRAVURE 

Page 

A  Stockaded  Farm  4 

Bird's-eye  View  of  Argues  6 

Plan  of  Argues                ....  8 

Angers /^ 

Dolmens,  in  Brittany      ....  138 

Alenfon  .......  146 

Guard  Tower  at  Caen     ....  750 

Chamber  in  Chdteau  of  Xllth  Century  .  176 

Ruins  of  Chdteau  of  Chinon  .         .         .  210 

Norman  Armour — Linked  Mail,  XI th 

Century  ......  230 

Plate  Armour,  XVth  Century        .         .  232 
Chamber  in  Chdteau  of  XHIth  Century, 


x  Illustrations 

Page 

Coiffure  —  Time  of  Queen  Eleanor  .         .  248 

Bird's-eye  View  of  Gaillard   .         .         .  308 

Ground  Plan  of  the  Chateau  Gaillard    .  312 

Attack  by  the  Drawbridge  from  the  Bef- 

froi          ......  320 

Keep  of  the  Chateau  Gaillard         .         .  326 

Old  Tower  at  Mont  fort  L  Amaury         .  338 
Josselin  —  Exterior  View         .         .         . 


Feeding  a  Prisoner          ....  382 

from  an  old  print. 

Montfort         ......  388 

Laval  —  Exterior  View   ....  392 

Coucy  —  Interior,   Showing  Thickness  of 

Walls      ......  400 

Coucy      .         ...         .         .         .         .  402 

Coucy  —  Bird's-eye  View          .         .         .  408 

Chamber    in    Chateau    of    the    XlVth 

Century  ......  418 


Illustrations  xi 

Page 

Pierrefonds — Bird's-eye  View          .         .  420 

Statue  of  Duke  of  Orleans  in  Pierre- 
fonds       ......  422 

Vincennes        ......  426 

From  an  old  print. 

Loches 428 


ROMANCE  OF 
THE  FEUDAL  CHATEAUX 


INTRODUCTION 

THE  HISTORICAL  AND  ARCHITECTURAL 
BACKGROUND 

THE  romancer,  like  the  playwright,  if  his 
period  is  given,  has  his  work  in  great  part 
mapped  out  for  him,  for  the  date  decides  not 
alone  the  scenery,  the  costuming,  and  other 
adjuncts  of  the  play,  but  the  customs  and  op- 
portunities of  life,  and  so  in  great  measure  the 
plot  itself. 

Romance  is  the  child  of   History,   and  as 
legitimately,  though  less  obviously,  the  child 


2  Feudal  Chateaux 

of  Architecture ;  and  the  knight  who  wore 
harness  and  lived  within  the  rough  walls  of  a 
grim  fortress  was  a  different  man,  for  those 
very  reasons,  from  the  silken  courtier  who 
lolled  over  the  carven  balustrades  of  a  chateau 
of  the  Renaissance. 

We  have  few  vestiges  of  the  dwellings  of  the 
earlier  races  in  France,  for  they  built  in  earth 
and  wood,  and  their  constructions  have  for  the 
most  part  disappeared.  The  oldest  stone  mon- 
uments in  the  country  are  the  Celtic  dolmens 
of  Brittany,  and  these  were  not  dwellings  but 
tombs  and  altars.  Though  we  can  point  to  no 
other  constructions  of  this  half-mythical  period, 
Brittany  is  by  far  the  best  field  in  France  for 
the  lover  of  the  earliest  legendary  lore.  Its 
authentic  history  glides  back  in  an  untroubled 
stream  to  primeval  man,  uncomplicated  by 
any  political  or  social  changes.  In  58  B.C., 
Brittany  was  made  nominally  a  Roman  pro- 
vince, but  Caesar  never  really  conquered  this 
part  of  Gaul,  nor  did  the  Merovingian  kings, 
and  thus  it  remained  undisturbed  in  the  cult 
of  its  Druidical  religion  and  its  tribal  independ- 
ence until  the  eighth  century,  when  it  was 
subjugated  by  Charlemagne. 

Civilisation,  education,  convention,  were  slow 
to  enter  Brittany.  It  was  the  "  Wild  West "  of 


Introduction  3 

France ;  its  people  are  still  simple,  with  strong 
natural  instincts,  credulous,  kindly,  childlike  in 
their  wonder  and  unquestioning  piety,  with  the 
virtues  and  faults  of  savages.  Conservative, 
contented,  mixing  little  with  eastern  and  south- 
ern France,  excepting  in  fight,  they  are  in  more 
direct  communication  with  the  farthest  past, 
believe  its  traditions  and  keep  up  its  customs, 
and,  having  less  that  is  new  to  think  of,  have 
forgotten  less  of  the  old  than  any  other  pro- 
vince. We  find  here  fewer  modern  buildings 
and  more  ancient  ones.  The  architecture  is 
principally  Gothic,  for  the  Renaissance,  which 
triumphed  everywhere  else  in  France,  hardly 
found  any  lodgment  here,  and  its  irreverent 
curiosity  and  intellectual  doubt  never  entered 
the  Breton's  happy  mind.  They  lived  their 
frankly  physical  lives  with  heartiness,  loving 
dearly  a  fair  fight,  but  preserving  a  crude  hon- 
our even  in  their  hatreds,  which  forbade  treach- 
ery though  not  cruelty,  and  entering  into  the 
simpler  enjoyments  of  life  with  a  whole-souled 
gaiety,  which  while  it  gave  credence  to  mys- 
teries was  not  greatly  troubled  by  them. 

It  is  to  Brittany,  in  greater  part,  that  we  owe 
the  Arthurian  legends,  for  Geoffrey  of  Mon- 
mouth  asserts  that  he  found  his  material  there. 

The  enchanter,  Merlin,  is  entirely  Breton,  and 


4  Feudal  Chateaux 

the  version  of  the  story  preserved  through 
French  channels  is  sweeter  and  simpler  than 
its  English  culmination  in  Tennyson's  idyl  of 
Vivien.  The  romances  of  Lancelot  and  of 
Tristram  and  Iseult  were  gradually  evolved  by 
wandering  trouveres  at  a  later  period,  and  bring 
in  the  flavour  of  the  Courts  of  Love  and  the 
lighter  thought  of  Provence.  But  it  was  a 
Breton  again,  Walter  de  Map,  who  opposed 
these  romances  by  the  inspired  ideal  of  Sir 
Galahad. 

"  My  good  sword  carves  the  casques  of  men 

My  tough  lance  thrusteth  sure, 
My  strength  is  as  the  strength  of  ten 
Because  my  heart  is  pure." 

It  was  his  genius,  too,  that  wove  the  unre- 
lated legends  into  an  epic  cycle  by  the  common 
motive  of  the  quest  for  the  Holy  Grail.  And 
this  motive  at  once  elevated  the  morale  and 
the  poetic  construction  of  the  whole. 

Remnants  of  these  legends  are  still  rehearsed 
in  Brittany,  and  until  recently  we  are  told  that 
a  man  would  have  been  stoned  who  dared  to 
assert  that  King  Arthur  was  not  a  historical 
personage,  while  several  of  the  dukes  of 
Brittany,  including  the  unfortunate  Prince 
Arthur,  son  of  Geoffrey  Plantagenet,  were 
named  for  him.  Tradition,  though  regarded 


yrr"^fc=^ 


A  STOCKADED  FARM. 


Introduction  5 

as  an  airy  nothing,  is  for  this  period  more  en- 
during than  architecture ;  for  the  literary 
remains  of  this  ancient  epoch  have  outlasted 
the  palaces  of  its  kings,  the  fortresses  of  its 
warriors,  and  every  other  monument  except 
the  huge  stones  of  the  Druids. 

For  four  centuries  and  a  half,  from  51  B.C. 
to  406  A.D.,  Gaul  was  under  the  control  of 
Rome.  The  Roman  proprietor  did  not  fortify 
his  country  dwelling,  but  lived,  in  the  security 
of  the  protection  of  his  great  government,  in 
simple  temporary  villas,  fleeing,  when  occasional 
forays  were  made  by  barbarians,  to  the  nearest 
oppidum,  or  fortified  town.  Roman  civilisation 
introduced  good  roads,  good  bridges,  aque- 
ducts, military  engineering  as  applied  to  forts 
and  town  walls,  and  civic  architecture,  such  as 
temples,  palaces,  baths,  tombs,  theatres,  arenas, 
etc.,  but  it  left  no  lasting  record  of  the  life  of 
the  landed  proprietor. 

The  Frank  swept  over  the  land,  absorbing 
or  blotting  out  the  work  of  the  Roman,  and 
still  the  country  nobleman  and  his  castle  bided 
their  time  to  appear.  For  the  Frank  brought 
ruder  manners,  loved  isolation,  and  took 
heartily  to  a  country  life ;  but  he  lived  on 
great  farms  and  grouped  his  granaries  and 
stables  about  a  central  wooden  blockhouse, 


6  Feudal  Chateaux 

surrounding  the  entire  group  by  a  palisade  of 
pointed  logs.  It  was  the  life  of  a  frontiers- 
man, a  barbaric  chief,  who  nevertheless,  as  he 
gathered  his  dependants  about  him,  was  build- 
ing up  a  lordship  which,  as  it  became  modified 
by  contact  with  the  more  civilised  Romanised 
Gauls,  was  to  develop  into  the  French  nobility. 
Another  race  poured  in  on  the  West,  and 
the  Norseman  brought  new  influences,  espec- 
ially in  building.  The  Frank  had  defended 
his  personal  dwelling,  his  ranche,  but  the  Nor- 
man defended  his  territory,  and  wherever  he 
set  his  invading  foot  built  strong  forts  of  stone 
to  hold  what  he  had  taken.  He  fortified  the 
Seine,  the  Loire,  and  the  Garonne,  from  whose 
mouths  his  galleys  made  their  way  into  the 
heart  of  France,  and  controlled  these  rivers  by 
means  of  forts  upon  the  islands,  peninsulas,  and 
promontories,  and  by  chains  and  sluice-gates 
and  obstructions,  with  fire-boats  lying  in  wait 
in  sheltered  coves.  At  first,  as  pirates  of  the 
sea,  the  Norsemen  had  built  for  themselves 
mere  fortified  camps  and  storehouses  for  booty, 
such  as  the  Hague  dike,  the  earthworks  of 
which  can  still  be  traced  at  the  end  of  the 
Cotentin.  Very  soon,  however,  the  idea  of 
conquest  of  land  as  well  as  of  movable  wealth 
entered  their  minds,  and  on  every  hilltop, 


BIRD'S-EYE  VIEW  OF  ARQUES. 


Introduction  7 

along  the  rivers  and  the  roads,  a  vidette  watch- 
tower  was  built  of  enduring  stone,  as  token  of 
permanent  occupation  and  to  flash  beacon- 
lights  from  one  to  the  other  on  the  first  ap- 
proach of  an  enemy.  These  forts  or  towers 
were  at  first  garrisoned  only  by  men,  but  later 
the  invaders  took  to  themselves  French  wives 
and  became  settlers,  and  the  forts,  homes. 

From  the  time  of  Charlemagne  France  had 
suffered  from  incursions  of  the  Norsemen,  and 
in  the  early  part  of  the  tenth  century  the  most 
formidable  of  their  chiefs,  Rollo,  repeatedly 
ravaged  France.  He  had  the  friendship  of 
Alfred  the  Great  of  England,  and  his  incursions 
became  so  numerous  and  so  dreaded  that  in 
911  the  necessity  of  treating  with  him  was 
clear,  and  Charles  the  Simple  held  a  confer- 
ence, with  him  and  offered  him  a  domain  in 
France  if  he  would  settle  peacefully.  The 
offer  was  accepted,  and  Rollo  the  Norseman 
gave  the  name  of  Normandy  to  his  fief.  It 
was  his  great  descendant,  William,  Duke  of 
Normandy,  who  in  1066  gained  his  appellation 
of  the  Conqueror  and  the  English  crown  at  the 
battle  of  Hastings. 

In  the  century  and  a  half  between  Rollo 
and  William  the  Conqueror  the  Norseman  re- 
volutionised country  architecture  in  France, 


8  Feudal  Chateaux 

and  the  castle  had  its  birth.  Roughly  speaking, 
the  castle-building  epoch  of  France  extended 
from  the  year  1000  to  1500,  with  a  recess  of  a 
century  about  the  middle  of  the  period.  The 
last  Crusade  and  internal  war  were  responsi- 
ble for  this,  halt.  From  the  advent  of  Rollo 
the  Normans  had  built  industriously ;  by  the 
eleventh  century  all  France  had  caught  the 
building  fever  and  until  1240  castle  after  cas- 
tle sprang  up  all  over  the  land. 

The  Crusades  called  the  French  knights  to 
adventures  beyond  seas ;  and  the  seigneur 
put  his  estate  in  pawn,  and  allowed  his  roofs 
to  leak  and  his  walls  to  topple  that  he  might 
raise  the  funds  necessary  to  equip  his  follow- 
ing in  this  last  struggle  for  the  Holy  Land. 
With  the  death  of  St.  Louis  the  Frenchman 
lost  his  crusading  fire,  and  settled  himself  to 
rebuilding  his  castle,  but  the  persecution  of  the 
Albigenses  and  the  war  with  England  destroyed 
more  fortresses  than  were  erected.  Those, 
however,  that  were  built  after  1360  brought 
the  science  to  its  perfection.  From  this  period 
date  the  magnificent  fortified  palaces  of  which 
Pierrefonds  is  the  type. 

The  sixteenth  century  saw  the  end  of  castle- 
building  by  the  seigneurs,  and  with  it  the  de- 
cline of  knighthood.  Thereafter  the  French 


i 


PLAN  OF  ARQUES. 


Introduction  9 

chateau  was  a  royal  maison  de  plaisance,  of 
very  different  architecture,  and  gunpowder  did 
away  with  the  grand  old  walls  and  towers  even 
in  fortification. 

It  will  be  seen  from  this  review  that  the 
history  of  French  castle-building  is  the  history 
of  feudalism  in  France.  If  to-day  the  life  of 
the  Norman  seigneur,  and  even  that  of  the 
feudal  nobility  of  a  later  period,  seems  to  us 
absurd,  we  must  study  its  conditions  and  those 
from  which  it  rose  and  we  will  recognise  that 
it  was  the  only  way  from  barbarism  to  civil- 
isation. 

Of  the  mythical  period  it  has  been  explained 
we  have  no  authentic  remains.  The  Angers 
of  Roland  was  not  the  Angers  of  to-day,  and 
the  Norman's  keep  is  the  first  castle  that  we 
enter,  sure  of  standing  within  the  very  building 
in  which  our  hero's  life  was  passed.  Let  us 
question  these  old  walls  and  they  will  tell 
us  much  of  that  life  which  has  not  been  pre- 
served in  written  records. 

The  most  perfect  specimen  of  a  castle  of  the 
very  early  Norsemen  is  that  upon  the  island  of 
Mousa  near  Zetland,  which  is  thus  described 
by  Sir  Walter  Scott  in  a  note  to  Ivankoe. 

"  It  is  a  single  round  tower,  the  wall  curving  in  slightly, 
and  then  turning  outward  again  in  the  form  of  a  dice- 


10 


box,  so  that  the  defenders  on  the  top  might  the  better 
protect  the  base.  It  is  formed  of  rough  stones,  selected 
with  care,  and  laid  in  courses  or  circles,  with  much 
compactness,  but  without  cement  of  any  kind.  The 
tower  has  never  to  appearance  had  roofing  of  any  sort ; 
a  fire  was  made  in  the  centre  of  the  space  which  it  en- 
closes, and  originally  the  building  was  probably  little 
more  than  a  wall  drawn  as  a  sort  of  screen  around  the 
great  council-fire  of  the  tribe.  But  although  the  means 
or  ingenuity  of  the  builders  did  not  extend  so  far  as 
to  provide  a  roof,  they  supplied  the  want  by  constructing 
apartments  in  the  interior  of  the  walls  of  the  tower  itself. 
The  circumvallation  formed  a  double  enclosure,  the  inner 
side  of  which  was  two  or  three  feet  distant  from  the 
other  and  connected  by  a  concentric  range  of  long  flat 
stones,  thus  forming  stories  or  galleries  rising  to  the  top 
of  the  tower.  Each  story  has  four  windows  looking  into 
the  interior  of  the  tower.  A  path,  on  the  principle  of  an 
inclined  plane,  turns  round  and  round  the  building  like  a 
screw  and  gives  access  to  the  different  stories,  intersecting 
each  of  them  in  turn  and  thus  gradually  rising  to  the  top 
of  the  wall.  On  the  outside  there  are  no  windows." 

By  slow  degrees  the  Norsemen  learned  the 
art  of  roofmg-in  their  buildings,  of  springing 
arches,  and  making  staircases,  but  the  Norman 
idea  of  a  stronghold  would  not  have  sprung 
up  on  every  hand  if  the  time  had  not  been 
ripe  for  them  and  political  conditions  called 
for  such  constructions. 

Throughout  the  tenth  century  the  descend- 
ants of  Charlemagne  had  slowly  declined  in 


Introduction  1 1 

power,  until,  under  the  last  Carlovingian, 
France  was  divided  into  one  hundred  and  fifty 
fiefs,  each  a  petty  state  governed  by  an  inde- 
pendent noble.  This  was  feudalism:  "a  col- 
lection of  individual  despotisms  exercised  by 
isolated  aristocrats,  each  of  whom  being  sover- 
eign in  his  own  domains  had  to  give  no  ac- 
count to  another,  and  asked  nobody's  opinion 
about  his  conduct  towards  his  subjects."  But 
it  had  also  another  side,  a  sense  of  fealty  toward 
the  King  who  was  suzerain  of  all.  A  nominal 
sovereign  they  must  have  to  secure  any  unity, 
and  recognising  the  superiority  of  one  of  their 
own  number,  Hugh  Capet,  over  the  legitimate 
king,  the  grandees  of  France  on  June  29, 
987,  unanimously  elected  him  King  of  the 
Gauls,  the  Aquitanians,  the  Bretons,  the  Nor- 
mans, the  Goths,  the  Spaniards,  and  the 
Gascons. 

Among  the  chieftains  present  at  this  election 
were  Foulques  Nerra  of  Anjou,  Eudes,  Count 
of  Blois,  Chartres,  and  Tours,  Bouchard,  Count 
of  Venddme  and  Corbeil,  Gautier,  Count  of 
Vexin,  and  Hugh,  Count  of  Maine.  Each  of 
these  puissant  lords  had  his  own  great  castle,  in 
which  he  reigned  more  truly  than  Hugh  Capet 
over  the  nation  at  large.  From  this  time  to 
the  Crusades  rose  the  abbeys  and  early  Gothic 


12  Feudal  Chateaux 

cathedrals ;  during  this  period  castles  sprang 
up  in  every  province  and  were  well  defended 
against  the  aggression  of  powerful  neighbours, 
for  the  nobles  grew  more  numerous,  more  pre- 
tentious, more  jealous  of  each  other.  The 
two  families  most  ambitious  and  most  success- 
ful were  those  of  William  of  Normandy  and 
Foulques  of  Anjou.  Under  the  domination  of 
the  latter  "the  lower  reaches  of  the  Loire 
bristled  with  fortresses  in  a  long  crescent  from 
Angers  to  Amboise."  He  built  or  enlarged 
Loudon,  Mirebeau,  Montresor,  Montrichard, 
Langeais,  Montbazon,  Loches,  and  Chinon. 
But  William  the  Conqueror  was  the  greatest  of 
all  castle-builders,  for  he  erected  seventeen  great 
strongholds  in  England,  prominent  among 
which  are  Conway,  Rochester,  Cardiff,  Kenil- 
worth,  Windsor,  and  the  Tower  of  London. 
Indeed  England  had  no  castles  before  the 
coming  of  the  Conqueror,  and  must  acknow- 
ledge her  debt  of  the  castle  idea  to  France. 
William  erected  nearly  as  many  strongholds  in 
Normandy,  and  the  English  and  French  castles 
of  this  time  have  the  same  characteristics. 

The  chateau  of  Arques,  near  Dieppe,  built 
by  the  uncle  of  William  the  Conqueror  in  1040, 
was  the  prototype  of  the  Norman  fortress  of 
his  time  and  is  explained  with  archaeological 


Introduction  13 

exactness  by  Viollet-le-Duc  in  his  Dictionary  of 
French  Architecture.  H  is  plans,  elevations,  and 
sections,  with  the  accompanying  text,  should 
be  studied  by  everyone  who  wishes  thoroughly 
to  understand  the  special  peculiarities  of  the 
castle  in  the  different  centuries, — how  its 
architecture  was  modified  as  the  art  of  defence 
and  the  science  of  military  engineering  pro- 
gressed, and  the  special  meaning  and  use  of 
every  detail. 

A  few  of  these  plans  are  reproduced  in  this 
volume,  but  can  only  be  briefly  touched  upon. 

Arques  was  built  on  a  tongue  of  chalk 
cliff,  a  promontory  defended  by  nature  on 
three  sides.  This  was  the  favourite  site  of  the 
Normans  for  their  chateau  forts  ;  we  shall  find 
it  again  in  Gaillard,  built  by  Richard  Cceur  de 
Lion,  who,  with  the  knowledge  and  experience 
of  two  more  centuries  of  castle-building,  could 
not  improve  on  this  situation.  Beyond  the 
outer  walls  of  the  castle  a  deep  ditch  sur- 
rounded the  entire  works.  If  the  besiegers 
succeeded  in  scaling  the  cliffs  they  found  them- 
selves unprotected  on  the  brink  of  this  fosse 
and  not  beyond  the  reach  of  the  arrows  from 
the  archers  behind  on  the  battlements,  while 
their  own,  directed  upward,  were  less  likely  to 
reach  their  aim,  and  it  was  impossible  to  drag 


1 4  Feudal  Chateaux 

heavy  battering-rams,  mangonels,  towers,  and 
temporary  bridges  up  the  cliffs. 

The  main  attack  would  therefore  be  on  the 
entrance,  D,  which  was  defended  by  outer 
walls,  B,  called  a  barbican.  Within  the  walls 
were  two  courtyards,  the  outer,  L,  called  the 
bailey,  used  for  the  stables  and  outbuildings 
of  the  chateau.  K  was  the  second  gate,  a 
drawbridge  crossing  the  trench  which  separated 
the  two  courts.  H  was  the  square  donjon,  the 
residence  of  the  seigneur  and  the  last  retreat 
of  the  garrison.  The  donjon  commanded  the 
entrance,  K,  and  the  entire  court.  Its  angles 
communicated  with  the  chemin  de  ronde,  or 
ramparts  of  the  outer  wall.  If  the  enemy 
took  the  court,  L,  they  could  not  mount  on  the 
ramparts  of  the  inner  court,  as  they  were 
higher  than  those  of  the  outer  bailey,  and 
archers  could  be  deployed  from  the  donjon  to 
fire  down  upon  them.  It  was  the  habit  of  the 
Franks  to  build  their  blockhouse  in  the  centre 
of  the  court,  but  the  Norman  showed  more  of 
ruse  in  placing  his  at  the  side.  Should  it  be- 
come necessary  to  evacuate  the  castle  a  postern- 
gate  was  arranged  at  K,  defended  by  a  fortified 
building,  P,  commanding  both  the  court,  O, 
and  the  fosse.  Besides  the  postern,  that  led 
by  means  of  a  drawbridge  to  a  road  down  the 


Introduction  15 

cliffs  commanded  by  the  donjon,  a  subterranean 
passage  connected  the  latter  with  secret  paths 
and  defiles  which  would  enable  the  garrison  to 
escape  or  by  which  reinforcements  or  provisions ' 
might  be  introduced  under  cover  of  the  night. 

Such  was  the  usual  plan  of  the  defences  of  a 
Norman  castle,  but  these  fortifications  were 
modified  as  the  science  of  attack  and  defence 
progressed.  The  castle  itself,  at  first  simply  a 
strong  tower  or  a  square  donjon-keep  of  three 
or  four  stones,  each  containing  but  one  or 
two  rooms,  became  a  commodious  and  stately 
dwelling,  and  in  the  fourteenth  century,  as 
has  been  said,  no  longer  a  fortress  but  a  forti- 
fied palace. 

The  ordinary  engines  for  conducting  a  siege 
in  this  first  period  were  the  battering-ram,  the 
trebuchct,  and  the  mangonel.  The  last  was 
an  instrument  for  throwing  great  stones  and 
blazing  tar  barrels,  and  was  worked  by  a  wind- 
lass. The  principle  of  the  trebuchet  was  that 
of  a  sling :  it  consisted  of  a  great  beam  whose 
shorter  arm  was  so  heavily  loaded  that  when 
the  other  end  was  released  it  was  possible,  as 
Froissart  relates,  to  hurl  back  into  the  castle  the 
messenger  who  had  been  secretly  despatched, 
and  had  been  taken  by  the  besiegers. 

In  the  story  of  the  siege  of  Chateau  Gail- 


1 6  Feudal  Chateaux 

lard,  we  shall  see  how  the  system  of  fortification 
was  improved  in  the  second  period  of  castle- 
building,  when  the  wooden  hourds  which  pro- 
tected the  battlements  were  replaced  by  ma- 
chicolated  parapets,  through  the  openings  of 
which  boiling  oil,  pitch,  molten  lead,  and  what 
a  humorous  writer  denominates  as  "  other  hair 
curlers  "  were  showered  upon  the  heads  of  the 
besiegers. 

The  Crusaders  brought  back  from  the  Orient 
the  secret  of  Greek  fire,  and  Richard  Cceur 
de  Lion  introduced  flanking  towers  ;  the  mine 
was  met  by  the  countermine  ;  but  until  the 
invention  of  gunpowder  the  castle  was  stronger 
than  any  force  which  could  be  brought  against 
it,  and  the  dread  Marshal  Famine  was  needed 
to  summon  it  to  capitulation. 

If  the  feudal  system  developed  "  irregular- 
ities of  ambition,  hatreds,  and  quarrels  among 
near  neighbours,  with  outrages  on  the  part  of 
princes,  energy  of  character,  activity  of  mind, 
and  indomitable  will  were  not  wanting."  The 
sentiment  of  loyalty  welded  all  together,  and 
Christianity,  grafted  on  this  thorny  stock,  blos- 
somed in  that  flower  of  the  age — Chivalry. 

Let  us  inquire  a  little  more  closely  into  the 
causes  which  brought  about  this  efflorescence. 

In  the  study  of  architecture,  as  in  that  of 


Introduction  1 7 

history,  "  we  learn  how  age  develops  into  age, 
how  century  reacts  upon  century,  how  thought 
inspires  action,  and  action  modifies  thought." 
The  castle,  while  giving  security,  at  least  at 
intervals,  and  developing  military  life,  gave  an 
elegant  leisure,  which  fostered  the  arts,  patron- 
ised letters,  and  amused  itself  in  diversions. 
These  were  at  first  simple,  such  as  riding, 
hunting,  and  jousting,  interspersed  with  feast- 
ing, the  story  of  the  trouvere,  and  the  song  of 
the  wandering  minstrel.  But  later  they  became 
more  luxurious  and  complicated,  culminating 
in  the  tournament  and  the  literary  Courts  of 
Love. 

Armour  was  modified  and  perfected,  keeping 
pace  in  its  changes  with  the  development  of 
the  chateau.  Chain  mail,  properly  called  har- 
ness, was  used  during  the  reign  of  Charle- 
magne, the  conquest  of  England,  and  the 
Crusades,  and  was  made  by  the  Moors  at  the 
forges  of  Toledo.  The  old  Goths  wore  coats 
of  bull's  hide  on  which  were  sewn  metal  rings. 
William  the  Conqueror  and  his  Normans 
wore  hauberks  or  suits  of  linked  mail,  which 
are  represented  in  Matilda's  tapestry.  The 
earlier  Crusaders  wore  long  gowns  of  linked 
steel  over  their  robes,  and  their  coats  of  mail 
were  heavy  but  supple.  The  knights  who  wore 


1 8  Feudal  Chateaux 

them  could  wheel  and  swerve  and  manoeuvre, 
but  though  the  links  would  turn  the  sharpest 
sword  the  mace  could  inflict  a  heavy  bruise. 
Shoulder-pieces,  elbow-,  and  knee-plates  were 
added,  the  transition  in  the  fourteenth  cen- 
tury to  plate  armour.  Between  1400  and  1450 
plate  armour  attained  perfection,  and  the  arm- 
ourers of  Milan  were  noted  for  their  beautiful 
works  of  art,  fitted  to  the  wearer,  and  inlaid 
with  gold.  Later  the  fluted  armour  of  the  time 
of  Maximilian  was  introduced.  Then  came 
the  invention  of  gunpowder,  and  armour  and 
castles  alike  received  their  death-blow.  Bayard, 
the  last  and  most  perfect  flower  of  knighthood, 
was  killed  by  a  pinch  of  the  "devil's  dust," 
and  impregnable  fortresses  could  be  blown  up 
by  bombs  from  long-distance  cannon. 

The  joust  and  tourney  have  been  mentioned 
as  diversions  of  the  Middle  Ages.  The  joust 
was  a  simple  passage  at  arms  between  two 
knights,  but  the  tournament  became  a  most 
complicated  ceremonial.  So  expensive  and 
dangerous  was  it  that  it  ruined  the  fortunes  of 
the  seigneurs,  and  as  many  as  sixty  knights  were 
killed  in  a  tourney  held  at  Cologne  in  1245. 
Philip  Augustus  made  his  sons  swear  never 
to  take  part  in  one,  and  the  Pope  finally  placed 
them  under  his  ban.  The  Field  of  the  Cloth 


Introduction  19 

of  Gold,  organised  in  June,  1520,  was  the 
most  magnificent  and  one  of  the  last  of  the 
tournaments. 

Good  King  Rene  of  Provence  arranged 
many,  among  the  most  brilliant  of  which  was 
one  held  at  Chinon  in  1446,  which  lasted  sev- 
eral weeks,  and  was  called  "  1  'Emprise  de  la 
Gueule  du  Dragon."  King  Rene  wrote  a  code 
of  punctilious  etiquette  for  their  procedure 
in  which  he  lays  down  the  dictum  that  only  a 
prince  or  a  noble  of  very  high  degree  and  re- 
nown can  of  right  give  a  tournament.  He 
imagines,  by  way  of  example,  that  the  Due  de 
Bretagne  desires  to  challenge  the  Due  de  Bour- 
bon to  courteous  combat,  in  which  case  the 
former,  as  appellant,  must  privately  ascertain 
whether  the  latter  will  accept,  whereupon  they 
proceed  to  the  following  public  ceremonies : 
The  appellant  invites  some  notable  herald  to 
act  as  King  at  Arms,  and  says  to  him,  "  Take 
this  sword  to  my  cousin,  the  Due  de  Bourbon, 
and  say  to  him  for  me  that  on  account  of  his 
valiance,  prudence,  and  great  chivalry,  I  send 
him  this  sword  to  signify  that  I  burn  to  fight  a 
Tourney  of  Arms  with  him,  in  the  presence  of 
ladies  and  damsels  and  others,  on  a  day  and  in 
a  place  convenient,  and  offer  him  a  choice  of 
half  the  judges." 


20  Feudal  Chateaux 

The  appellant  and  defendant  were  each  al- 
lowed to  select  four  of  these  judges,  with  the 
restriction  that  in  each  case  two  of  the  judges 
must  be  of  the  country  of  their  opponent,  and 
all  notable  and  valorous  men.  The  herald 
having  repeated  his  message  with  even  more 
ceremony,  the  defendant  accepts  in  the  fol- 
lowing terms  : 

"  I  do  not  accept  to  make  show  of  my  own 
prowess,  but  to  give  my  cousin  pleasure  and 
the  ladies  diversion." 

The  defendant  presents  the  herald  with  a 
mantle  on  which  are  quartered  the  arms  of  the 
contending  parties  and,  in  the  four  corners, 
those  of  the  judges.  The  judges  convene  and 
arrange  all  preliminaries,  sending  poursuivants 
to  cry  the  tournament  at  the  King's  court  and 
in  the  chief  cities  of  the  kingdom. 

"  Oyez,  oyez,"  shouted  the  poursuivant,  "  be 
it  known  to  all  princes,  seigneurs,  barons, 
knights,  and  squires  of  the  march  of  the  Isle 
de  France,  of  the  march  of  Champagne,  of  the 
march  of  Flanders,  etc.,  and  to  the  knights  of 
Christian  countries,  if  they  are  not  enemies 
to  the  King  our  Sire,  to  whom  God  give  long 
life,  that  at  such  a  time  and  in  such  a  place 
will  be  a  great  pardon  of  arms  and  very  noble 
tourney,  fought  after  all  the  ancient  customs,  at 


Introduction  21 

which  tourney  the  chiefs  are  the  very  illus- 
trious Due  de  Bretagne,  appellant,  and  the 
very  valorous  Due  de  Bourbon,  defendant,  and 
all  knights  of  all  Christian  countries,  provided 
they  are  not  at  variance  with  the  King,  are 
hereby  invited  to  take  part  in  the  said  tourney 
for  the  glory  of  knighthood  and  the  fame  of 
their  ladies." 

Further  pompous  preliminaries  followed :  the 
entry  of  the  knights  into  the  town  chosen  for 
the  tournament ;  the  display  of  the  helmets, 
when  any  lady  had  the  right  to  strike  one,  in- 
dicating that  its  owner  was  a  false  knight  and 
not  worthy  to  combat ;  the  showing  of  banners 
at  the  lodgings  of  the  accepted  knights ;  ban- 
quets, and  more  announcements  by  the  herald, 
and  finally  the  tournament. 

NOTE — Mr.  and  Mrs.  Edwin  Blashfield  have 
illustrated  and  explained  the  armour  worn  at  a 
tournament  in  a  scholarly  article  published  in 
Scribners  Magazine,  from  which  the  following 
description  is  quoted : 

"  The  jousting  armour  was  more  magnificent  and 
theatrical  than  that  worn  by  knights  upon  the  battlefield, 
with  a  greater  display  of  banners  and  blazons.  The 
tourneying  knights  wore  armour  heavier  in  front  than 
behind  and  bassinets  (helmets)  with  open  grated  visors, 
on  which  rested  the  great  tourney  helms  with  their 


22  Feudal  Chateaux 

strange  devices.  They  fought  with  'courteous  arms,' 
that  is  to  say,  the  swords  having  no  point  and  being  too 
wide  in  the  blade  to  enter  the  opening  of  the  visor  (while 
the  spears  were  blunted  and  called  rochets).  The 
heaviest  and  most  complete  horse  armour  was  found  at 
tourneys.  A  double  board  fence  surrounded  the  lists, 
and  on  one  side  tribunes  were  erected,  one  for  the  judges 
and  two  for  the  ladies.  A  double  cord  stretched  across 
the  lists  separated  the  parties,  who  faced  each  other,  each 
knight  with  his  mounted  standard-bearer  behind  him. 
Four  mounted  axmen  stood  ready  to  cut  the  cords.  As 
the  trumpets  blew  the  cords  fell,  the  banner-bearers 
retired,  and  the  fight  began.  In  charging  the  knight 
stood  in  his  stirrups.  If  the  aim  was  good  the  lances 
splintered.  Sometimes,  as  in  Kinsgley's  Hereward,  all 
four,  horses  and  men,  found  themselves  sitting  upon  the 
ground  among  the  fragments  of  the  lances.  A  splinter 
from  the  lance  of  the  Count  of  Montgomeri  entering  the 
narrow  sight  of  the  visor  of  Henry  II.  put  an  end  at  once 
to  the  king's  life  and  to  jousting  in  France." 

The  pageant  had  reached  a  pitch  of  extrava- 
gance which  must  soon  have  insured  its  decline 
without  this  accident.  At  first  the  lady's 
favour,  a  scarf  or  veil,  or,  like  Elaine's, 

"  a  red  sleeve 
Broidered  with  pearls," 

was  either  attached  to  the  helmet  or  suspended 
from  the  shoulder  of  the  knight's  sword  arm. 
Later  her  coat  of  arms  was  frequently  blazoned 
or  embroidered  upon  his  surcoat,  a  tunic  worn 


Introduction  23 

over  his  armour.  The  crusading  Knights 
Templars  wore  white  surcoats  on  which  was 
blazoned  the  red  cross  of  Jerusalem.  Tourney- 
ing knights  wore  surcoats  of  samite,  or  silk, 
of  what  colour  or  device  pleased  their  fancy. 
It  is  hard  to  imagine  a  bird  of  gayer  plumage 
than  the  princelings  of  the  day  in  their  full 
war-paint.  When  the  lady  of  Belles  Cousines 
asked  Jean  de  Saintre  if  he  were  provided  with 
a  surcoat  for  an  enterprise  he  was  about  to  un- 
dertake in  Spain,  he  replied :  "  My  lady,  I  have 
three  ;  the  first  of  crimson  damask  richly  em- 
broidered in  silver  furred  with  Siberian  marten, 
the  second  of  blue  satin  lozenged  with  jewels 
and  bordered  with  miniver,  the  third  of  black 
damask  wrought  with  a  border  of  silver  thread 
about  a  device  of  green,  violet,  and  grey  plumes, 
your  colours,  the  whole  trimmed  with  white 
ostrich  feathers  dotted  in  black  spots  like 
ermine." 

Though  loaded  with  luxury  and  etiquette 
the  tournament  was  a  rude  and  dangerous 
pastime  fitted  only  to  feudal  times  when,  in  the 
intervals  of  fierce  war,  men  could  find  no  sport 
so  interesting  as  fighting  for  pure  love  of 
contest. 

Rough-riding  and  tilting  at  the  quintain,  a 
lay  figure  on  a  pole,  and  the  play  of  rings, 


24  Feudal  Chateaux 

mimicked  now  in  the  merry-go-round,  was  the 
boy's  pastime  in  the  castle  courtyard  and 
orchard.  Later  he  left  his  home  to  serve  as 
varlet  in  some  grander  castle  and  squire  for 
some  famous  knight.  Austin  Dobson's  The 
Dying  of  Tanneguy  du  Bois  gives  a  vivid  pict- 
ure, not  alone  of  the  death  of  a  knight  at  a 
tournament,  amid  the  flash  of  scarves  and 
waving  hands,  but  also  of  the  castle  life  of  the 
period  :  the  wife  in  the  turret  watching  for  him 
through  the  narrow  window,  a  mere  slit  in  the 
massive  wall,  the  boy  with  a  reed  for  a  lance 
charging  in  play  and  slashing  the  heads  from 
the  lilies. 

"  Yes,  with  me  now  all  dreams  are  done,  I  ween, 

Grown  faint  and  unremembered  ;  voices  call 
High  up,  like  misty  warders  dimly  seen 

Moving  at  morn  on  some  Burgundian  wall  ; 
And  all  things  swim — as  when  the  charger  stands 

Quivering  between  the  knees,  and  east  and  west 
Are  filled  with  flash  of  scarves  and  waving  hands; 

There  is  no  bird  in  any  last  year's  nest. 

"  Is  she  a  dream  I  left  in  Aquitaine  ? 

My  wife  Giselle — who  never  spoke  a  word, 
Although  I  knew  her  mouth  was  drawn  with  pain 
To  watch  me  trotting  till  I  reached  the  ford. 

"  Ah  !  I  had  hoped,  Got  wot — had  longed  that  she 
Should  watch  me  from  the  little-lit  tourelle, 


Introduction  25 

Me,  coming  riding  by  the  windy  lea — 
Me,  coming  back  again  to  her,  Giselle  ; 

Yea,  I  had  hoped  once  more  to  hear  him  call, 
The  curly-pate,  who,  rushen  lance  in  rest, 

Stormed  at  the  lilies  by  the  orchard  wall ; 
There  is  no  bird  in  any  last  year's  nest. 

"  Give  ye  good  hap,  then,  all.     For  me,  I  lie 

Broken  in  Christ's  sweet  hand,  with  whom  shall  rest 
To  keep  me  living,  now  that  I  must  die  ; 
There  is  no  bird  in  any  last  year's  nest." 

Even  in  feudal  times  the  life  in  the  chateau 
was  not  all  brutal.  There  were  oppression  and 
cruelty,  the  torture  chamber  and  the  oubliette  ; 
there  were  robber-like  excursions,  harrying  of 
fields,  sieges  of  neighbouring  castles.  There 
were  black  revenge  and  inordinate  ambition, 
but  there  was  also  a  reverse  to  this  picture. 
"  Fearlessness,  the  generous  use  of  power  and 
strength,  succour  to  the  weak,  comfort  to  the 
poor,  reverence  for  age,  for  goodness,  for 
women,"  were  springing  up,  and,  with  these 
ideals,  courtesy  of  manners  and  progress  in 
education.  The  troubadour  was  welcomed  in 
the  hall,  and  the  trouvere  told  his  legend  and 
the  jongleur  played  his  lute.  And  the  trou- 
badour was  no  base-born  child  or  travelling 
mountebank,  but  a  noble,  educated  in  one  of 
the  abbeys.  William  of  Poitou,  the  grand- 


26  Feudal  Chateaux 

father  of  Queen  Eleanor,  was  one  of  the  first 
of  the  troubadours,  and  he  and  his  grand- 
daughter made  Bourdeaux  the  centre  of  a 
brilliant  poetic  coterie,  which  caused  the  gai 
savoir,  the  polite  literature  of  romance  and 
poesie,  to  become  popular  throughout  France. 
The  chatelaine  of  the  castle  kept  a  book  in 
her  bower  in  which  she  asked  each  visiting 
troubadour  to  write  down  any  of  his  romances 
which  were  new  and  particularly  pleasing. 

The  troubadour  guest-room  was  always 
ready,  and  sometimes  he  abode  with  the  family 
during  an  entire  winter,  composing  poems  in 
honour  of  his  hostess,  which  some  artist-monk 
from  the  neighbouring  priory  illuminated  on 
fine  parchment.  The  castle  was  not  dependent 
alone  upon  the  troubadour  for  its  literature. 
The  monks  copied  the  classics  as  well  as  the 
Scriptures  and  legends  of  the  saints,  and  the 
library  begun  at  Blois  by  the  early  Dukes  of 
Orleans  is  an  example  of  the  interest  taken  by 
the  nobles  in  letters  before  the  invention  of 
printing.  The  monks  at  this  time  were  not  only 
the  exponents  of  scholasticism,  but  of  the  arts 
and  crafts  as  well.  They  were  dramatists, 
musicians,  sculptors,  naturalists,  wood-carvers, 
engineers,  and  architects.  The  monks  of 
Cluny  were  notable  architects,  and  the  pro- 


Introduction  27 

fession  was  nearly  monopolised  by  them  for 
centuries. 

We  must  not  forget  that  the  same  age 
which  built  the  stern  and  simple  castle  elabo- 
rated Gothic  architecture ;  though  it  was  not 
until  the  heart  was  gone  out  of  religion  that 
the  same  luxury  of  art  was  lavished  upon  the 
dwellings  of  the  noble  as  upon  the  cathedral 
and  the  abbey,  and  the  stone  walls  of  the 
castle  were  lined  with  wonderful  carved  wain- 
scoting, tapestries  filled  the  space  above,  and 
the  rafters  were  blazoned  in  vermilion. 

Ruskin  admires  the  self-sacrifice  and  the 
reverence  of  the  seigneur  who  lived  simply 
and  hardily  in  inconvenient  and  undecorated 
dwellings  and  poured  out  such  a  wealth  of 
beauty  upon  the  buildings  devoted  to  God. 
It  was  religious  as  well  as  artistic  "  exaltation 
to  which  we  owe  those  fair  fronts  of  variegated 
mosaic  charged  with  wild  fancies  and  dark 
hosts  of  imagery  thicker  and  quainter  than 
ever  filled  the  depth  of  a  midsummer  dream ;' 
those  vaulted  gates  trellised  with  close  leaves, 
those  window  labyrinths  of  twisted  tracery, 
those  masses  of  multitudinous  pinnacle  and 
diademed  tower.  All  else  for  which  the  build- 
ers laboured  have  passed  away.  They  have 
taken  with  them  to  the  grave  their  power,  their 


28  Feudal  Chateaux 

honours,  and  their  errors,  but  they  have  left  us 
their  adoration." 

The  beautiful  Gothic  abbey  was  usually 
nestled  beside  some  powerful  fortress,  its 
acknowledged  protector  and  patron,  so  we  will 
find  the  castle  of  Monfort  1'Amaury  protecting 
the  abbey  of  St.  Leger ;  Coucy,  Premontre ; 
and  Chinon,  Fontevrault. 

Alfred  de  Musset  alludes  lovingly  to  this 
companionship  : 

"  Que  j'aime  a  voir,  dans  la  valise 

Desolee, 

Se  lever  comme  un  mausole'e 
Les  quatre  ailes  d'un  noir  moutier ! 
Que  j'aime  a  voir,  pres  de  1'austere 

Monastere, 

Au  seuil  du  baron  feudataire, 
La  croix  blanche  et  le  be"nitier  ! 

"  Que  j'aime  a  voir,  dans  les  vespre*es 

Empourpre"es, 
Jaillir  en  veines  diaprees 
Les  rosaces  d'or  des  couvents  ! 
Oh,  que  j'aime  aux  voutes  gothiques 

Des  portiques, 

Les  vieux  saints  de  pierre  athle*tiques 
Priant  tout  bas  pour  les  vivants  !  " 

So  their  ruins  stand  to-day.  The  stronghold 
on  the  summit  of  some  eminence,  commanding 
a  watercourse  or  one  of  the  Roman  roads, 


Introduction  29 

the  abbey  nestling  beside  the  castle,  and  the 
two  forming  the  citt  or  ecclesiastical  and  aris- 
tocratic quarter  of  the  ville,  or  home  of  the 
burghers,  which  gathered  around  them  on 
the  hillside.  It  is  this  picturesque  grouping 
that  makes  French  landscape  so  attractive  to 
such  nomad  artists  as  Hamerton  and  Pennell, 
and  by  its  suggestive  companionship  charms 
the  poet  and  the  romancer. 

The  proximity  of  the  castle  and  abbey  had  a 
nobler  significance.  The  monks  were  not  alone 
humanisers  and  educators. 

"  The  Church  of  the  Middle  Ages,  "  says 
a  standard  authority,  "  possesses  the  passionate 
devotion  of  the  foremost  minds  of  the  time, 
and  left  a  system  which  really  penetrated  and 
acted  upon  the  minds  of  men.  It  stood  be- 
tween conqueror  and  conquered  and  form- 
ulated a  system  common  and  possible  to  all." 

Chivalry  was  the  direct  result  of  the  blending 
of  the  Christian  ideal  with  a  militant  life.  The 
ceremony  of  knighting  the  young  candidate 
was  complicated  and  impressive,  and  included 
many  symbolical  and  religious  acts,  such  as 
bathing,  fasting,  the  vigil  at  arms,  confession, 
communion,  and  the  formal  dubbing.  Before 
receiving  the  accolade  the  aspirant  was  asked, 
"  To  what  purpose  do  you  desire  to  enter  an 


30  Feudal  Chateaux 

order  ?  If  to  be  rich,  to  take  your  ease  and  be 
held  in  honour  without  doing  honour  to  knight- 
hood, you  are  unworthy  of  it."  If  his  answer 
was  satisfactory,  the  knights  and  ladies  who 
were  to  act  as  sponsors  drew  near  and  invested 
him  in  his  maiden  armour,  and  the  accolade  or 
three  blows  with  the  flat  of  the  sword  were 
given  him  and  he  was  made  a  knight  "  in  the 
name  of  God  and  of  St.  Michael  and  St. 
George,"  the  two  militant  archangels. 

The   knights   had   to    swear   to  twenty-six 
articles : 

(1)  To  fear  and  reverence  and  serve  God  religiously,  and 

to  die  rather  than  to  renounce  Christianity  ; 

(2)  to  serve  and  fight  for  their  King  and  country  ; 

(3)  to  uphold  the  rights  of  the  weaker,  such  as  widows, 

orphans,  and  damsels  ; 

(4)  that  they  should  not  injure  anyone  maliciously,  or 

take  what  was  another's,  but  rather  do  battle  with 
those  that  did  so  ; 

(5)  that  greed,  pay,  or  profit  should  never  constrain  them 

to  do  any  deed,  but  only  glory  and  virtue  ; 

(6)  that  they  would  fight  for  the  common  weal ; 

(7)  that  they  would  obey  their  generals  ; 

(8)  that  they  would  guard  the  honour  of  their  country  ; 

(9)  that  they  would  never  fight  in  companies  against  one, 

and  that  they  would  eschew  all  tricks  and  arti- 
fices ; 

(10)  that  they  would  wear  but  one  sword  unless  they  had 

to  fight  against  two  or  more  ; 


Introduction  31 

(u)  that  in  tourney  they  would  never  use  the  point  of 
their  swords  ; 

(12)  that  being  taken  prisoner  in  a  tourney  they  would  be 

bound  on  their  faith  and  honour  to  perform  in 
every  point  the  condition  of  capture,  besides  being 
bound  to  give  up  to  the  victors  their  arms  and 
horses  and  being  disabled  from  fighting  in  war 
without  their  leave  ; 

(13)  that  they  would  keep  faith  inviolably  with  all  the 

world  ; 

(14)  that  they  would  love  and  succour  one  another  ; 

(15)  that  having  made  a  vow  to  go  any  quest  they  would 

never  put  off  their  arms  save  for  the  night's  rest ; 

(16)  that  in  its  pursuit  they  would  not  shun  bad  roads 

or  perils  ; 

(17)  that   they  would   never  take   wage   from    foreign 

prince  ; 

(18)  that  in  command  of  troops  they  would  never  suffer 

violence  to  be  done  ; 

(19)  that  in  the  escort  of  dame  or  damsel  they  would 

save  her  from  all  danger  or  insult  or  die  in  the 
attempt ; 

(20)  that  they  would  never  offer  violence  to  dame  or 

damsel  though  they  had  won  her  by  deeds  of 
arms  ; 

(21)  that  being  challenged  to  equal  combat,  they  would 

never  refuse,  without  wound  or  sickness  or  other 
reasonable  hindrance ; 

(22)  that  having  undertaken  any  enterprise  they  would 

devote  to  it  night  and  day  unless  called  away  by 
King  or  country  ; 

(23)  that  having  made  a  vow  to  acquire  any  honour  they 

would  not  draw  back  without  having  attained 
either  it  or  its  equivalent ; 


32  Feudal  Chateaux 

(24)  that  having  become  prisoners  in  fair  warfare  they 

would  pay  to  the  uttermost  the  promised  ransom 
or  return  to  prison  at  the  day  and  hour  agreed 
upon,  on  pain  of  being  proclaimed  infamous  and 
perjured  ; 

(25)  that  on  returning  to  the  court  of  their  sovereign  they 

would  render  a  true  account  of  their  adventures, 
even  though  they  had  been  worsted,  to  the  King 
and  the  registrar  of  their  order,  on  pain  of  being 
deprived  of  the  order  of  knighthood  ; 

(26)  that  above  all  things  they  would  be  faithful,  court- 

eous, and  humble,  and  never  wanting  to  their  word 
for  any  harm  or  loss  that  might  accrue  to  them. 

Gibbon  says  "  the  order  of  knighthood  was 
particularly  dedicated  to  the  service  of  God 
and  the  ladies,"  and  adds,  "  I  blush  to  unite 
such  discordant  names."  After  reading  these 
twenty-six  articles  one  is  at  a  loss  to  under- 
stand his  blush. 

Tennyson  epitomised  the  code  in  Arthur's 
ideal  knight. 

"  Who  reverenced  his  conscience  as  his  king, 
Whose  glory  was  redressing  human  wrong, 
Who  spake  no  slander,  no,  nor  listened  to  it, 
Who  loved  one  only  and  who  clave  to  her." 

This  ideal  was  formed  by  degrees ;  the  hero 
of  Tennyson's  imagination  was  of  a  loftier 
character  than  the  Arthur  of  the  troubadours, 
as  that  hero  was  a  different  one  from  the  real 
Arthur  of  the  sixth  century,  if  he  ever  existed. 


Introduction  33 

We  shall  see  how  the  castle  was  in  many 
respects  the  outer  physical  expression  of  the 
man,  only  one  layer  removed  from  his  armour, 
and  all  developing  together  to  a  more  perfect 
whole. 

One  great  romancer  or  rather  necromancer, 
Walter  Scott,  "  the  poet  of  romantic  legend, 
of  adventure,  of  chivalry,  of  life  in  its  heyday 
of  action  and  its  golden  glow  of  pageantry 
and  pleasure,  could  alone  adequately  rebuild 
these  crumbling  battlements  and  shattered 
towers,  and  pour  through  their  ancient  halls 
the  glowing  tide  of  life  and  love,  of  power 
and  beauty  and  song."  But  he  has  touched 
few  of  the  French  chateaux  with  his  magic 
wand ;  many  of  them  have  disappeared,  and 
the  old  piles  that  remain  tottering  day  by  day 
still  await  patiently  their  chronicler. 

Fergusson  in  his  History  of  Architecture 
says  of  them  : 

"  France  is  not  so  rich  as  Germany  or  England  in 
specimens  of  castellated  architecture.  This  does  not 
apparently  arise  from  the  fact  of  no  castles  having  been 
built  during  the  Middle  Ages,  but  rather  from  their 
having  been  pulled  down  to  make  way  for  more  con- 
venient dwellings  after  the  accession  of  Francis  I.,  and 
even  before  his  time  when  they  had  ceased  to  be  of  any 
use.  Still  the  chateaux  of  Pierrefonds  and  Coucy  are  in 
their  own  class  as  fine  as  anything  to  be  found  elsewhere. 


34  Feudal  Chateaux 

The  circular  keep  of  the  latter  castle  is  perhaps  unique 
both  from  its  form  and  its  dimensions.  Tancarville  still 
retains  some  of  the  original  features  of  its  fortifications, 
as  do  also  the  castles  of  Falaise  and  Gaillard.  The  keeps 
of  Vincennes  and  Loches  are  still  remarkable  for  their 
height.  In  the  south  the  fortified  towns  of  Carcassonne 
and  Aigues-Mortes,  and  in  the  north,  Fougeres,  retain 
as  much  of  their  walls  and  defences  as  almost  any  place 
in  Europe.  The  former  in  particular,  both  from  its  situ- 
ation and  the  extent  of  its  remains,  gives  a  singularly 
favourable  and  impressive  idea  of  the  grave  majesty  of 
an  ancient  fortalice.  But  for  alterations  and  desecra- 
tions of  all  sorts,  the  palace  of  the  popes  at  Avignon 
would  be  one  of  the  most  remarkable  castles  in  Europe ; 
even  now  its  extent  and  the  massiveness  of  its  walls  and 
towers  are  most  imposing. 

' '  These  are  all  either  ruins  or  fragments ;  but  the  castle 
of  Mont  St.  Michel  in  Normandy  retains  nearly  all  the 
features  of  a  mediaeval  fortress  in  sufficient  perfection  to 
admit  of  its  being  restored,  in  imagination  at  least.  The 
outer  walls  still  remain,  encircling  the  village  which 
nestles  under  the  protection  of  the  castle.  The  church 
crowns  the  whole,  and  around  it  are  grouped  the  halls  of 
the  knights,  the  kitchens  and  offices  and  all  the  appurte- 
nances of  the  establishment,  intermingled  with  fortifica- 
tions and  defensive  precautions  that  must  have  made  the 
place  nearly  impregnable  against  such  engines  of  war  as 
existed  when  it  was  erected,  even  irrespective  of  its  sea- 
girt position." 

Each  grim  donjon  is  the  background  for 
some  sinister  or  heroic  figure.  Sometimes,  as 
the  chateau  of  Coucy,  it  is  the  background 


Introduction  35 

for  many  such,  since  in  these  long-enduring 
walls  (which  but  for  the  insane  rage  of  man 
would  hardly  have  felt  the  tooth  of  time), 
memories  of  one  age  lap  over  upon  another 
and  ghosts  flit  that  never  knew  each  other  in 
life.  We  have  chosen  only  a  few  as  typical : 
Angers,  with  its  traditions  of  Roland  and  the 
peers  of  Charlemagne  ;  Mont  St.  Michel  with 
souvenirs  of  Rollo  and  the  Vikings,  with 
legends  of  the  submerged  castle  of  Is  close  at 
hand  ;  Caen  and  Falaise,  which  tell  the  story  of 
William  the  Conqueror ;  Chinon,  the  cradle  of 
the  Plantagenets ;  Avignon  and  Carcassonne,  re- 
echoing the  poetry  of  the  troubadours;  Gaillard, 
that  proved  Richard  Cceur  de  Lion  the  great- 
est military  engineer  of  his  time ;  Monfort 
1'Amaury,  Josselin,  and  Laval,  unfolding  like  a 
tapestry  the  panorama  of  the  war  of  the  Three 
Joans,  with  Du  Guesclin  always  in  the  fore- 
ground ;  and  Coucy  giving  dissolving  views  all 
through  the  centuries,  from  Merovingian  times 
until  it  unites  with  Pierrefonds  to  tell  of  the 
ambition  and  fall  of  Louis  d'Orleans.  Gentle 
St.  Louis  walks  with  De  Joinville  before  the 
stately  Keep  of  Vincennes  ;  gloomy  Gaston  de 
Foix  rages  at  Pau  ;  Louis  XL,  wily  and  cruel, 
peers  from  Plessis  les  Tours  and  from  Amboise 
at  those  castles  of  death,  the  gibbets,  with  their 


36  Feudal  Chateaux 

ghastly  habitants,  or  at  that  more  grewsome 
living  death  in  the  dungeons  of  Loches,  and  in 
his  greedy  kingship  strikes  the  first  blow  to 
feudalism,  just  as  it  is  coming  to  perfection. 

All  through  the  centuries  we  shall  see  how 
the  ideal  of  the  perfect  knight  grew ;  that 
William  of  Normandy  was  far  nobler  than 
Rollo,  and  he  of  the  Lion  Heart  more  courteous 
and  cultured  than  the  bluff  Conqueror,  while 
St.  Louis  is  immeasurably  in  advance  of 
Richard  in  purity,  sweetness,  and  all  the  qual- 
ities which  make  the  ideal  King  Arthur.  Du 
Guesclin,  sprung  from  comparatively  humble 
birth,  gives  an  uplift  to  commonalty  through 
his  personal  emprise ;  Charles  of  Orleans,  writ- 
ing his  poems  in  captivity,  or  collecting  his 
literary  circle  at  Blois,  is  a  forerunner  of  the 
Renaissance,  and  Rene,  the  artist-king,  calmly 
painting  his  miniatures  while  his  castles  are 
taken  from  him,  has  the  same  disregard  for 
material  wealth  and  dignities  which  marks  the 
modern  artist.  Froissart's  ideal,  as  shown  in 
his  hero,  Gaston  de  Foix,  who  finds  his  high- 
est pleasure  in  his  kennels,  and  Simon  de 
Montfort,  whose  perverted  conscience  makes 
him  burn  hundreds  of  heretics,  has  been  lost 
sight  of  in  a  clearer  vision  of  what  perfect 
knighthood  should  be.  And  at  last,  just  as 


Introduction  37 

chivalry  passes  from  the  world,  the  ideal 
achieves  its  realisation  in  Bayard,  sans  peur 
et  sans  reproche. 

With  the  passing  of  the  knight,  feudalism 
and  its  stronghold  also  passed  from  the  scene, 
and  the  royal  chateau  of  the  Renaissance  sprang 
up  to  mark  a  new  era,  when  the  King  was 
supreme  and  the  noble  had  lost  all  of  nobility 
but  the  name.  Agrippa  d'Aubigne  was  the 
last  who  dared  shut  himself  in  his  fortresses 
and  refuse  to  surrender  them  to  the  King. 
Richelieu  issued  an  edict  in  1626  which  ordered 
the  destruction  of  all  useless  castles  and  fort- 
ifications in  the  kingdom.  Only  those  were 
to  be  spared  which  were  on  the  frontiers,  or 
possessed  special  value  in  case  of  foreign  war. 
The  measure  while  strengthening  monarchy 
was  also  aimed  against  the  Huguenots. 
Castles,  which,  like  Montargis,  had  been  a 
hospice  for  Protestants  and  defied  the  armies 
of  the  League  and  the  King,  were  not  to  be 
suffered  to  exist.  All  through  the  south  of 
France,  and  in  Provence  especially,  the  work 
of  blowing  up  the  grand  old  towers  and  walls 
went  on.  There  is  something  akin  to  fury  in 
the  French  blood,  which  loves  to  destroy  its 
monuments,  remembering  only  the  wrongs 
that  it  has  suffered ;  and  the  local  population 


38  Feudal  Chateaux 

joined  with  the  King's  authorities  in  sacking, 
pillaging,  and  demolishing.  The  Revolution 
nearly  completed  the  work  which  the  religious 
wars  and  monarchy  had  begun,  and  though 
every  town  in  France  has  its  ruin,  we  under- 
stand why  Fergusson's  reproach  is  true,  that 
there  remain  fewer  well  preserved  specimens 
of  feudal  fortresses  in  France  than  in  England 
or  Germany. 

The  writer  loves  these  ruins,  and  the  tradi- 
tions which  cling  to  them.  Some  have  been 
told  her  by  simple  people  on  the  spot ;  others 
she  has  found  in  old  chronicles  in  which  she 
has  read  a  trifle  between  the  lines,  seeing  looks 
and  gestures  and  little  explanatory  phrases 
with  guesses  at  thoughts  and  motives,  written 
in  that  magical  sympathetic  ink  which  is  too 
faded  and  faint  to  catch  the  eye  of  the  searcher 
for  authenticated  statistics ;  and  so  she  must 
explain  that,  of  the  tales  that  follow,  though 
some  are  historically  true,  of  others  she  must 
write  as  Caxton  did  in  his  preface  to  the  Morte 
d' Arthur  of  Sir  Thomas  Malory  : 

"  I  have  down-set  in  print  the  gentle  and  virtuous 
deeds  that  some  knights  used  in  those  days,  by  which 
they  came  to  honour,  and  how  they  that  were  vicious 
were  punished  and  put  to  shame.  Do  after  the  good 
and  leave  the  evil,  and  it  shall  bring  you  to  good  fame 


Introduction  39 

and  renomm^e.  And  " — while  we  hope  that — "  for  to 
pass  the  time  this  book  shall  be  pleasant  to  read  in,  but 
for  to  give  faith  and  belief  that  all  is  true  that  is  con- 
tained herein — ye  be  at  your  liberty." 


CHAPTER  I 

TREASURE-TROVE 

IT  was  as  though  some  enchanter  of  the  dim 
past  had  lifted  his  wand  and  time  had  stood 
still  for  centuries. 

Here  were  the  same  moats  and  massive 
walls,  the  great  entrance  with  the  portcullis 
rusted  into  its  grooves,  the  meurtrieres,  or 
tiny  slits  of  windows  where  the  archers  stood, 
the  "pepper-pot  turrets  and  extinguisher  roofs." 

When  we  crossed  the  permanent  bridge, 
which  at  Chateau  La  Joyeuse  now  replaces 
the  ancient  drawbridge,  we  drifted  back  into 
legendary  times,  and  felt  ourselves  as  unreal 
as  the  unsubstantial  characters  in  an  old  rom- 
ance. For  the  stately  life,  at  once  ceremo- 
nious and  simple,  has  scarcely  changed,  and 
has  never  been  interrupted  (save  by  that  dis- 

40 


Treasure-Trove  41 

agreeable  episode  of  the  Revolution)  and  still 
goes  on  within  its  walls  as  it  has  always  done 
since  the  ennoblement  of  the  first  La  Joyeuse. 
That  was  long  ago,  in  the  tenth  century,  and 
the  castle  itself  was  built  somewhere  in  the 
thirteenth.  It  escaped  the  lynx  eyes  of  Riche- 
lieu only  because  it  was  such  a  little  chateau, 
defending  nothing  in  particular,  and  because  it 
was  in  so  inaccessible  a  region  that  it  seemed 
to  have  run  away  and  hidden  itself.  There 
were  ruins  on  the  one  side,  which  added  to  the 
picturesque  effect  of  the  whole ;  but  in  this 
case  it  was  the  more  modern  and  ornate  wing, 
erected  at  the  time  of  the  Renaissance,  which 
had  been  destroyed.  The  mad  peasants  found 
what  had  escaped  the  envy  of  royalty,  and  at- 
tempted to  burn  the  entire  chateau  ;  but  the 
thicker  walls  of  the  more  ancient  portion  had 
resisted  the  flames,  and  a  tower  and  one  wing 
remained,  antiquated  and  solitary,  like  an  aged 
man  who  had  lost  his  children  and  with  them 
every  link  to  the  present. 

And  yet  its  name,  La  Joyeuse,  was  not  a 
misnomer.  There  was  no  hint  of  sadness  in 
the  life  at  the  chateau.  It  was  calmly  retro- 
spective, and  untroubled  by  the  turmoil  of  the 
present.  A  sweet  sense  of  peace,  and  remote- 
ness alike  from  the  ambitions  and  drudgery  of 


42  Feudal  Chateaux 

modern  life,  pervaded  all.  Every  appoint- 
ment was  archaic,  with  no  incongruous  modern 
improvements  of  electric  lifts  and  lighting  to 
replace  the  monumental  stone  staircase,  up 
which  the  family  toiled  in  ghostly  procession 
each  evening,  their  twinkling  bedroom  candles 
making  luminous  will-o'-the-wisps  in  the  dark 
hall  ways.  There  was  the  same  sense  of  sim- 
plicity and  antiquity  in  the  spacious  rooms, 
severely  furnished  in  precious  old  carved  oak, 
black  with  age.  Ancient  arras  with  dim  fig- 
ures, hunting  scenes  for  the  most  part,  formed 
appropriate  backgrounds  for  antlers  and  boar- 
spears  ;  the  raftered  ceilings  were  picked  out 
in  painted  heraldic  designs,  and  a  few  old  por- 
traits looked  down  from  walls  that  had  echoed 
the  voices  of  their  originals. 

Every  detail  was  fitting  and  unostentatious  ; 
each  object  was  old,  very  old — a  priceless  heir- 
loom. There  were  not  enough  of  them  for 
the  riotous  taste  of  modern  times  (which 
would  turn  every  room  into  a  heterogeneous 
bric-a-brac  shop),  but  with  the  severity  was  a 
sense  of  quiet  dignity,  of  accustomed  use,  and 
of  aristocracy  that  had  been  aristocratic  for  so 
many  centuries  that  it  had  lost  all  self- 
consciousness. 

Without,    the  dependencies  of  the  chateau 


Treasure-Trove  43 

were  those  of  a  great  farm,  but  even  here  the 
huge  dove-cote,  with  room  for  a  thousand 
pigeons,  in  itself  attested  seigneurial  rights,  for 
only  the  seigneur  could  keep  the  rapacious 
pigeons,  which  were  by  the  old  laws  allowed  to 
devastate  the  peasants'  grain  fields. 

The  La  Joyeuse  family  harmonised  with 
their  environment,  or  rather  gave  to  it  its  se- 
rene and  elevated  character. 
.  The  Vicomte  was  absorbed  in  archaeology 
and  in  his  collection  of  antique  coins.  The 
daughter  of  the  house,  Yseult,  was  winsome 
and  debonair,  as  full  of  pranks  and  merriment 
as  an  American  girl,  and  as  fond  of  outdoor 
sports  as  an  English  maiden.  Both  were  un- 
conscious and  sweetly  unassuming.  Only  the 
Vicomtesse  recalled  the  portrait  of  the  old 
Marquise  in  her  boudoir,  and  suggested  in 
every  intonation  of  her  voice  and  dignified 
gesture  that  she  never  forgot  her  position,  and 
that  a  jewelled  coronet  would  have  received, 
not  have  added,  distinction  by  resting  on  her 
small  head,  so  imperiously  was  it  carried. 

I  have  called  their  name  La  Joyeuse,  chiefly 
because  that  is  not  the  appellation  of  either 
the  family  or  the  chateau,  for  one  does 
not  repay  the  friendship  and  confidence  of 
years  by  notoriety ;  and  though  La  Joyeuse 


44  Feudal  Chateaux 

fittingly  describes  their  sunny  natures  and  the 
chateau  in  the  laughing  Breton  landscape,  no 
one  will  recognise  under  it  our  gentle  host  and 
hostess. 

In  the  earlier  stages  of  our  acquaintance 
they  had  been  surprised  at  the  interest  which 
we  took  in  the  history  of  the  chateau,  in  the 
legends  of  the  neighbourhood,  and  in  the 
romances  which  had  been  lived  by  the  originals 
of  the  old  portraits.  They  had  spoken  of 
their  "  American  ancestor,"  so  called  because 
he  had  gone  to  America  with  his  friend  Count 
Rochambeau  to  fight  for  our  liberties.  It 
seemed  natural  to  them  that  we  should  be 
pleased  to  know  of  him  ;  but  that  we  should  feel 
an  equal  interest  in  an  old  crusading  ancestor 
quite  passed  their  comprehension. 

Yseult  showed  me  the  old  knight  in  a 
lumber  room,  where  a  coterie  of  portraits  of 
ancestresses,  decked  out  as  shepherdesses  a  la 
Watteau,  were  holding  a  forlorn  little  levee 
among  broken-legged  ormolu  tables  and 
buhl  cabinets  from  which  the  inlay  was 
dropping. 

"  This  is  the  room  of  the  Emigres,"  she  ex- 
plained. "  When  the  chateau  was  sacked  the 
family  fled,  but  the  faithful  servants,  before  the 
mob  arrived,  dropped  the  portraits  and  the 


Treasure-Trove  45 

most  valuable  furniture  into  the  oubliette  in 
the  donjon  tower.  They  were  not  discovered 
until  years  afterward,  when  they  were  res- 
cued in  this  dilapidated  condition.  They  have 
waited  ever  since  for  a  time  when  we  could 
spare  the  money  to  have  them  restored.  The 
knight's  portrait  was  painted  in  Venice  on  his 
return  from  the  Crusades.  Father  could  tell 
you  his  history,  I  presume,  for  he  lives  in  the 
past.  He  makes  me  think  of  Gautier's  hero : 

"  Ame  retrospective,  il  loge 
Dan  son  chateau  du  passe" 
Le  pendule  de  son  horloge 
Depuis  des  siecles  est  casse." 

At  first  the  old  Vicomte  only  smiled  in- 
credulously when  I  attempted  to  explain  my 
love  of  old  legends  as  something  akin  to  his 
own  passion  for  corroded  coins,  but  at  length 
he  was  won  over  and  the  archives  of  his 
rich  memory  were  opened  to  us.  Having 
exhausted  his  store  he  suggested  fresh  fields. 

"  We  have  plenty  of  old  vulture's  nests  like 
this  in  Brittany,  as  heavily  laden  with  tradi- 
tions as  are  our  oaks  with  mistletoe.  If  you 
like  we  will  make  a  driving  tour,  and  you  shall 
have  your  fill  of  gables  and  fables." 

"  And  after  you  have  gathered  your  legends," 


46  Feudal  Chateaux 

said  Yseult,  "after  you  have  made  the  old 
castles  deliver  up  to  you  their  secrets,  you 
must  remember  it  was  only  half  of  the  duty  of 
the  trouveres  to  find.  They  repeated  their 
stories  in  the  halls  of  the  chateaux,  and  you 
must  come  back  to  us  and  tell  your  legends 
here.  We  will  imitate  one  of  the  old  proven- 
$al  courts  of  love,  and  will  all  dress  in  the  cos- 
tume of  the  period.  I  will  practise  some  of 
the  early  chansons  and  will  have  a  jongleur  to 
play  my  accompaniments  upon  a  lute." 

The  invitation  was  extended  to  us  collect- 
ively, and  particularly  to  me  as  a  trouvere  or 
finder  of  romances ;  but  it  was  a  visiting 
architect,  a  young  student  of  the  £cole  des 
Beaux  Arts,  who  had  been  making  measured 
drawings  of  the  Gothic  chapel  (under  Yseult's 
direction),  who  answered  with  alacrity  and 
decision,  "  We  will  certainly  come."  "  And  in 
the  meantime,"  continued  Yseult,  with  slightly 
heightened  colour  and  more  pointedly  address- 
ing the  scribe,  "we  will  all  help  you.  My 
father  shall  admit  you  to  his  sanctum,  the 
library,  and  we  will  see  what  shades  of  the  past 
we  can  waken  for  you  here." 

Yseult  spoke  gaily,  for  there  were  no  lugu- 
brious stories  connected  with  Chateau  La 
Joyeuse.  It  was  the  last  place  where  one 


Treasure-Trove  47 

could  expect  to  see  a  ghost,  and  yet  it  was 
here  that  the  apparition  first  appeared  to  me 
that  I  was  to  track  through  many  a  tangled 
romance  and  find  and  lose  in  many  an  old 
chateau. 

The  library  was  in  itself  a  fascinating  room, 
situated  in  the  round  tower,  near  the  ruined  part 
of  the  building.  The  upper  part  of  the  walls 
was  hung  with  tapestry  and  armour,  the 
lower  lined  with  books.  From  the  shelves  the 
Vicomte  took  down  old  histories  and  chansons 
de  geste,  which  he  piled  beside  me  on  the  study 
table,  a  most  valuable  introduction  to  the 
voyage  of  exploration  which  we  afterwards 
made  to  the  shores  of  the  past. 

One  day  he  asked  me  if  I  had  read  the 
stories  of  The  Table  Round. 

"  Only  Tennyson's  version,"  I  replied. 

"  Oh,  but  you  should  read  old  Robert  de 
Borron!"  he  exclaimed.  "His  Viviane  is  so 
different,  so  pure  and  sweet,  you  could  read 
the  legend  to  a  child  ;  on  boit  du  lait  en  lisant 
far 

He  opened  the  old  book  and  read  aloud 
and  I  was  soon  deeply  absorbed  in  the  nar- 
rative. When  he  laid  it  down,  there  were  tears 
in  the  eyes  of  both  reader  and  listener. 

"Whatever  you  find  in  your  wanderings," 


48  Feudal  Chateaux 

he  said,  "  may  it  be  your  good  fortune  to  dis- 
cover the  enchanted  castle  of  Brcecilande. 
Once  I  thought  I  had  found  it ;  but  no,  that 
castle  has  no  memory  of  sorrow  or  of  sin — it  is 
not  La  Joyeuse." 

While  the  Vicomte  was  speaking,  Finette, 
Yseult's  maid,  entered  quietly  and  laid  some 
letters  upon  the  table.  The  Vicomte  opened 
his  letters  and  left  the  room,  but  Finette 
still  lingered,  softly  taking  up  books  and  lay- 
ing them  down  again  and  indulging  in  such 
conspicuously  unnecessary  attentions  as  an- 
nounced a  desire  for  conversation.  Finally  her 
curiosity  became  irrepressible  and  she  asked, 
"  Where  is  the  Chateau  of  Brcecilande  of 
which  the  Vicomte  was  speaking  ?  " 

"  Somewhere  in  Brittany,  but  no  one  knows 
exactly  where." 

"  Anatole  could  find  it "  she  said  meditatively. 
"  Anatole  knows  all  the  old  castles  hereabouts. 
If  Madame  will  tell  me  all  the  story, — I  only 
heard  the  last  part, — perhaps  I  could  recognise 
some  locality  that  would  give  a  clue  to  finding 
the  castle." 

"  The  Vicomte  did  not  say  that  the  story 
was  all  true,  Finette." 

She  nodded  in  a  sidewise,  knowing  way. 
"  Trust  me,  I  can  tell  you  if  a  story  is  true ;  I 


Treasure-Trove  49 

was  not  born  yesterday.  The  Vicomte  was  in 
earnest  when  he  said  he  hoped  you  would  find 
the  castle.  If  Madame  will  have  the  goodness 
to  proceed." 

"  A  long  time  ago,  then,  Finette,  just  after 
King  Arthur  had  chased  away  the  demon 
which  under  the  form  of  a  black  cat  guarded 
the  bridge  of  Lausanne,  and  routed  in  the 
plains  of  Autun  the  Roman  army,  and  killed 
the  giant  of  Mont  St.  Michel  — 

"It  is  true ;  I  know  all  about  that." 

"  You  were  personally  acquainted  with  the 
giant  ?  " 

"  I  have  sat  in  his  chair ;  it  is  a  matter  of 
history." 

"  Very  well,  after  this  historical  event,  Mer- 
lin asked  leave  of  King  Arthur  to  go  into  the 
heart  of  Brittany  and " 

"  Pardon,  Madame,  who  was  this  Merlin  ?" 

"  The  book  says,  Finette,  that  he  was  an 
enchanter  and  the  son  of  a  devil  and  a  nun, 
and  so  had  two  natures,  but  the  good  tri- 
umphed ;  and  after  he  was  baptised,  though  he 
possessed  demonic  power  he  exercised  it  only 
for  good." 

Finette  nodded  approvingly.  "  I  have  known 
devils  to  be  converted,"  she  said,  "  and  as  for 
enchantments,  there  have  things  happened  in 


50  Feudal  Chateaux 

this  chateau,  yes,  in  this  very  room,  that  cannot 
be  explained — but  it  is  Madame  who  is  telling 
the  story,  not  I." 

"  While  Merlin  was  travelling,  he  entered 
the  forest  of  Brcecilande  and,  as  he  was  resting 
beside  a  fountain,  a  girl  of  twelve  approached 
him.  Merlin  was  a  grey-bearded  old  man,  but 
the  moment  he  saw  her  coming,  he  assumed  the 
appearance  of  a  young  varlet,  or  youth  of  good 
family.  The  young  girl's  name  was  Viviane, 
and  De  Borron  says  that  at  this  time  she  was 
the  most  beautiful  creature  that  one  could 
dream.  Merlin  could  not  take  his  gaze  from 
her,  but  all  the  time  he  kept  saying  in  his 
heart,  '  What  folly,  nevertheless,  in  me,  that  I 
should  lose  the  wisdom  and  sense  God  has 
given  me  for  a  simple  young  girl.' " 

Finette  smiled.  "  Men  are  all  alike,"  she 
said  loftily — "  all  fools  when  they  are  in  love, 
as  doubtless  Madame  knows,  for  though 
Madame's  husband  does  not  look  like  a  fool, 
yet  he  married  Madame." 

"  Do  not  interrupt  me,  Finette,"  I  said 
severely.  "  Merlin  introduced  himself  to  the 
maiden  as  a  student  in  search  of  a  master,  and 
the  maid  explained  that  she  was  the  daughter 
of  a  vavaseur  who  lived  in  the  neighbourhood. 
'  What  would  you  learn  ? '  she  asked. 


Treasure-Trove  5 l 

"  '  Magic,'  he  replied  ;  '  and  I  can  already 
perform  a  few  feats.' 

"  '  What  can  you  do  ? '  asked  Viviane. 

"  '  I  can  lift  a  chateau  into  the  air,  although 
it  may  be  surrounded  by  besiegers,  and  trans- 
port it  to  an  inaccessible  place.' 

" '  Certes,  you  are  already  wonderfully 
learned.  Do  you  know  the  future  ? ' 

" '  Assuredly.' 

"  '  I  would  see  a  proof  of  your  art.' 

"  '  For  your  friendship  there  is  nothing  that 
I  would  not  do.  I  will  both  cause  you  to 
witness  my  power  and  will  teach  you  how 
to  work  the  same  wonders,  if  you  will  grant 
me  your  love.' 

"  Merlin  made  a  circle  upon  the  grass  and 
seated  himself  within  it,  beside  Viviane,  and 
presently  many  knights  and  ladies  entered 
the  circle,  dancing  and  singing,  while  strains 
of  charming  music  floated  through  the  air. 
Around  them  sprang  up  a  beautiful  garden 
filled  with  exquisite  flowers.  A  magnificent 
chateau  arose  in  the  background,  and  servants 
brought  from  it  and  served  upon  its  terrace  a 
sumptous  banquet. 

"  Viviane  listened  with  all  her  might  but  she 
could  only  half  understand  the  refrain  of  one 
of  the  songs  : 


52  Feudal  Chateaux 

c  Love  comes  as  blooms  the  blossoming  rose, 
As  silently  and  surely  goes.' 

"  Merlin  lifted  his  hand  and  all  this  phantasm- 
agoria vanished.  Viviane  regretted  that  she 
had  only  two  eyes  to  behold  it  all,  and  begged 
to  be  taught  to  work  similar  wonders. 

"  '  And  will  you  hold  to  your  agreement  and 
for  my  trouble  give  me  your  love  ? ' 

"  *  You  have  it  now.' 

"  And  Merlin,  looking  into  her  eyes,  knew 
that  she  spoke  sooth. 

" '  Since  you  can  read  and  write,'  he  said, 
'  I  will  teach  you  more  secrets  than  any  woman 
ever  knew.' 

"  '  How  do  you  know  that  I  can  read  and 
write  ? ' 

"  '  The  moment  I  saw  you  I  was  aware  of  all 
that  ever  happened  to  you.  I  can  read  your 
thoughts ;  you  love  me  as  I  love  you — I  can 
trust  you.  Take  therefore  this  parchment  and 
write  down  the  lesson  that  I  will  teach  you.' 

"  '  What  will  you  teach  me  ? ' 

"  '  To  produce  glamour,  as  I  have  just  done, 
and  to  make  men  see  what  you  will.' 

"  So  Merlin  taught  her  to  make  the  semblance 
of  lake  or  river  where  drops  of  water  never 
flowed,  and  to  make  men  fancy  that  they  saw 
whatever  she  bade  them." 


Treasure-Trove  53 

"  I  have  seen  that  done,"  interrupted  Finette. 
"There  was  a  man  who  came  to  the  chateau 
who  did  it.  They  called  it  hyp-,  hyp-,  I  for- 
get what.  We  called  it  devil's  work,  and  he 
made  us  all  very  drunk  from  drinking  wine  out 
of  empty  bottles.  How  the  Vicomte  did  laugh  ! 
'  That  would  save  me  a  pretty  account  with 
my  vintner  if  I  knew  the  trick/  he  said.  But 
it  had  not  the  same  satisfying  effect;  there 
was  no  headache  afterward.  But  pardon, 
Madame,  mille  pardons ;  I  die  to  hear  the  rest 
of  Madame's  story  of  the  fool  wizard,  and  the 
wicked  young  girl  who  stole  all  his  power." 

"  She  was  not  wicked,  Finette ;  she  was  as 
faithful  as  Merlin  was  trustful,  for  she  loved 
him  with  her  whole  heart." 

"  In  that  case,"  said  Finette,  "  of  course  he 
went  away  and  left  her." 

"  Yes,  he  went  away,  but  he  promised  her 
that  he  would  come  again  just  one  year  from 
that  day  on  the  Eve  of  St.  John  ;  and  when  he 
came  he  found  Viviane  waiting  for  him  beside 
the  fountain,  and  this  time  he  taught  her  a 
great  deal  more  of  magical  lore  :  how  to  change 
her  form  at  pleasure,  so  that  she  should  never 
grow  old  or  hideous,  and  how  to  lay  a  spell 
on  man  or  beast,  so  that  they  could  never  harm 
her.  And  all  this  Viviane  wrote  down  care- 


54  Feudal  Chateaux 

fully  upon  the  parchment.  She  begged  him  to 
teach  her  to  lay  whom  she  would  in  a  magic 
sleep,  and  this  she  explained  was  because  she 
wished  to  throw  her  parents  into  a  trance,  so 
that  they  should  not  discover  his  visits.  Merlin 
went  away  for  the  second  time,  but  it  was  like 
death  to  Viviane  to  part  with  him,  though  she 
could  not  bring  herself  then  to  practise  the 
spell  which  she  had  just  learned  upon  him,  nor 
did  she  wish  to  keep  him  with  her  asleep,  for 
that  would  be  to  lose  the  pleasure  of  hearing 
him  converse.  Merlin,  who  read  her  thoughts, 
and  could  foretell  the  future,  foresaw  what  the 
end  would  be  and  he  bade  farewell  to  King 
Arthur  and  to  his  friend,  the  hermit  Blaise, 
saying,  'I  go  to  the  land  which  I  have  reason 
to  dread,  sweet  and  lovely  as  it  is,  for  there  is 
a  fairy  in  the  forest  who  will  bind  me  with 
chains,  neither  of  iron  nor  steel,  but  so  firmly 
that  I  shall  never  be  able  to  return.'  So  Merlin 
was  not  surprised  when  Viviane  said  to  him  at 
their  third  meeting,  '  There  is  one  charm  which 
I  know  not  yet  which  I  beg  you  to  teach  me.' 

"  'What  is  that,  sweetheart?'  Merlin  asked, 
though  he  knew  already. 

"  *  I  wish  to  know,  dear  love,  how  to  lock 
without  bolts  or  bars,  so  that  I  can  imprison 
whom  I  will.' 


Treasure-Trove  55 

"  '  I  know  all  that  is  in  your  heart,'  said  Mer- 
lin, '  and  that  if  I  teach  you  this  charm  I  shall 
be  your  prisoner  for  ever.' 

"  '  Is  it  not  reasonable  that  this  should  be,  my 
dearest  love,  since  I  am  wholly  yours  ?  Why 
should  you  not  obey  me  as  I  obey  you  ?  ' 

" '  It  is  reasonable  and  just,  my  own,'  said 
Merlin,  '  for  I  know  that  you  are  mine ;  ask 
what  you  will  and  I  will  do  it.' 

"  '  I  desire  that  you  should  teach  me  to  make 
a  delicious  retreat,  impenetrable,  invisible  to 
others,  where  we  two  can  live  for  ever  without 
growing  old,  or  parting,  or  ceasing  to  love  one 
another.' 

"  *  This  is  my  desire  also,'  said  Merlin,  *  and 
nothing  is  easier.  I  will  at  once  call  into  ex- 
istence such  an  enchanted  castle.' 

"  '  Nay,'  said  Viviane,  'but  teach  me  how  to 
do  it,  that  I  may  be  its  maker  and  chatelaine ; 
then  it  may  be  made  after  my  own  fancies  and 
last  according  to  my  will.' 

"  *  It  shall  be  as  you  wish,'  said  Merlin,  and 
he  taught  her  how  to  work  this  enchantment 

"  One  day  as  they  were  walking  in  the  forest 
they  came  to  a  bower  of  blossoming  black- 
thorn and  sat  down,  and  as  Merlin  rested,  his 
head  in  Viviane's  lap,  he  fell  asleep.  Very 
softly  she  arose  and  wound  her  scarf  nine  times 


56  Feudal  Chateaux 

around  the  bower  and  whispered  the  spell. 
Then  she  took  his  head  again  upon  her  knee 
and  waited  to  see  what  would  happen.  Sud- 
denly there  sprang  up  all  around  them  the 
towers  and  bastions  of  the  strongest  fortress 
that  was  ever  built,  and  the  blackthorn  blos- 
soms wavered  and  flattened  into  figures  of 
blackthorn  embroidered  on  tapestry,  and  they 
were  in  a  noble  vaulted  chamber  of  the  great 
castle,  and  the  branches  of  the  trees  became 
groined  stone  arches,  through  which  golden 
stars  were  seen  studded  upon  a  blue  ceiling, 
which  was  the  sky  dropped  down  and  hardened. 
And  Merlin  awoke  and  found  himself  lying  on 
a  golden  couch  instead  of  a  mossy  bank,  and 
he  knew  he  was  Viviane's  prisoner.  And  he 
cried,  '  Ah,  Viviane,  you  will  be  the  falsest  of 
women  if  you  misuse  your  power.'  For  he 
knew  that  she  could  come  and  go  at  pleasure, 
while  he  must  ever  remain  chained  without 
iron  or  steel,  and  fast  locked  without  bolts  or 
bars. 

"  '  My  soul,'  answered  Viviane,  'could  I  ever 
leave  you  ? ' 

"And  Viviane  has  been  true,  for  she  has 
never  left  him." 

"  How  long  ago  was  that?"  asked  Finette. 

"  Twelve  centuries." 


Treasure-Trove  57 

"  It  is  a  wonderful  story,  is  it  not,  that  a 
castle  could  be  built  thus  by  enchantment  ?  " 

"  The  enchanted  castle,  that  is  not  so  won- 
derful ;  I  can  readily  believe  that,  and  that  a 
man  should  be  a  fool, — that  is  natural.  But  that 
a  woman  should  be  true  for  twelve  hundred 
years,  that  is  what  is  incredible." 

Finette  left  the  room,  but  I  still  sat  thinking 
of  Merlin  and  his  enchantments,  when,  chancing 
to  glance  up  at  an  old  helmet  which  hung  above 
a  door,  I  was  startled  to  see  within  the  cavern 
of  the  open  visor  the  gleam  of  fiery  eyes.  I 
pinched  myself  and  changed  my  position  that 
I  might  be  sure  this  was  no  hallucination. 
The  eyes  followed  me.  They  were  small  and 
gleamed  like  coals  of  fire,  and  seemed  to  be 
set  in  a  black  face.  I  hurried  from  the  room 
intending  to  call  someone,  but  on  the  thresh- 
old was  ashamed  of  my  timidity  and  returned. 
Looking  up  at  the  group  of  armour  I  was  still 
more  puzzled  to  notice  that  the  visor,  which 
was  open  when  I  left  the  room,  was  closed.  It 
was  a  relief  not  to  see  the  eyes,  but  I  was 
puzzled.  Stories  of  robbers  looking  down 
through  the  openings  cut  in  the  eyes  of  portraits 
occurred  to  me,  and  I  decided  to  investigate 
the  wall  against  which  the  helmet  hung.  The 
door  beneath  it  was  opposite  the  one  which 


58  Feudal  Chateaux 

communicated  with  the  other  rooms  of  the 
chateau,  and  was  secured  by  a  rusty  bolt  which 
I  had  some  difficulty  in  drawing.  It  gave  way 
suddenly  and  the  door  swung  heavily  inward, 
pushing  me  back  into  the  library.  It  was  fort- 
unate for  me  that  it  had  not  been  constructed 
to  open  in  the  opposite  direction,  for,  as  my 
hand  still  grasped  the  bolt,  I  might  have  been 
dragged  outward  into  a  yawning  abyss.  As  I 
looked  through  the  doorway  I  saw  below  me 
the  blackened  ruins  of  the  burned  portion  of 
the  chateau.  Once  a  staircase  had  led  up  to 
this  door.  I  could  see  the  indications  of  its 
course  jutting  from  the  outer  wall  of  the 
library  tower;  but  the  projection  of  these 
brackets  was  so  slight  that  no  human  being 
could  have  found  foothold  upon  them. 
Turning,  I  faced  the  Vicomte,  who,  entering 
the  library,  was  surprised  to  see  the  door 
open. 

"  Did  you  hear  anything  ?  Has  anything 
alarmed  you  ? "  he  asked,  and  I  fancied  he 
seemed  annoyed.  His  expression  plainly  asked 
why  I  had  opened  the  door. 

"Not  exactly  alarmed,"  I  replied,  "  but  I 
fancied  I  saw  eyes  peering  from  that  helmet 
and  I  opened  the  door  to  investigate.  I  see 
that  I  must  have  been  mistaken.  Of  course 


Treasure-Trove  59 

it  was  an  hallucination  ;  I  had  been  reading  too 
long  and  my  eyes  were  tired." 

"  Of  course,"  the  Vicomte  replied  with  alac- 
rity ;  "one  can  fancy  anything,  and  since  you 
heard  nothing  and  the  visor  of  the  helmet  is 
down,  of  course  you  were  mistaken." 

"  But,"  I  replied,  "  the  strange  part  of  it  is, 
that  the  visor  was  surely  up  this  morning,  for 
I  happened  to  notice  the  helmet  as  I  entered 
the  room." 

"  You  are  right,  you  are  quite  right,"  the  Vi- 
comte replied  gaily,  "  and  I  know  now  what  you 
saw."  Dragging  a  small  step-ladder  before 
the  door,  which  he  had  closed,  he  thrust  his 
hand  within  the  helmet  and  withdrew  what  ap- 
peared to  be  a  small  iron  mask,  a  grotesque 
face  with  eyes  of  large  carbuncles.  "  I  remem- 
ber placing  this  within  the  helmet  myself,"  he 
said  ;  "  it  is  a  curio  about  which  we  have  had 
much  discussion,  an  ornament  of  an  ancient 
suit  of  armour,  probably  the  epaulier  or  shoul- 
der-piece. As  I  put  it  back  within  the  hel- 
met you  will  see  that  it  was  no  hallucination. 
From  where  you  were  sitting  you  saw  the 
light  reflected  by  the  red  stones,  giving  the 
eyes  a  positively  demoniacal  glare." 

"  I  can  explain  the  closing  of  the  visor,  too," 
I  exclaimed ;  "  when  I  first  noticed  this  face 


60  Feudal  Chateaux 

I  ran  out  of  the  room,  and  the  closing  of  the 
door  must  have  jarred  the  helmet  and  caused 
the  visor  to  fall." 

"  Exactly ;  there  is  always  some  physical  ex- 
planation for  any  seemingly  supernatural  ap- 
pearance or  sound  when  they  are  really  seen  or 
heard.  There  is  a  pretty  story  connected  with 
the  grotesque  face.  It  was  given  to  one  of  my 
ancestors  by  the  greatest  knight  of  France — 
Dunois — who,  under  Joan  of  Arc,  delivered 
the  country  from  the  English.  Should  you  in 
your  visits  to  museums  discover  anything  simi- 
lar I  shall  be  grateful  if  you  will  send  me  word." 

The  persistency  with  which  this  strange  ob- 
ject reappeared  and  vanished  again  in  the 
legends  of  the  chateau  was  not  only  tantalis- 
ing but  marvellous.  At  this  time,  however,  I 
had  no  suspicion  that  it  was  more  than  a 
curious  piece  of  bric-a-brac,  and  as  I  was  more 
interested  in  literary  curiosities  than  in  an- 
tiquities of  this  kind,  I  gave  it  no  especial  at- 
tention. The  ruins  upon  which  I  had  glanced 
at  the  opening  of  the  door  interested  me 
more.  The  Vicomte  seemed  to  have  nothing 
more  to  say,  but  rang  for  Finette  to  put  the 
step-ladder  away,  and  returned  to  the  drawing- 
room. 

The  maid  looked  at  the  door  with  a  quick, 


Treasure-Trove  61 

comprehending  glance.  It  had,  then,  been 
opened. 

"Madame  has  heard  anything?  Madame 
has  been  alarmed  ?  " 

The  similarity  of  her  question  to  that  of  the 
Vicomte  struck  me. 

"  Heard  anything  ?  "  I  replied.  "  What  is 
there  to  hear?" 

"  But  nothing ;  it  is  of  course  quite  impos- 
sible that  Madame  should  hear  anything  in 
broad  daylight,  with  Monsieur  le  Vicomte  in 
the  library  too  !  " 

"  Neither  Monsieur  le  Vicomte  nor  the  day- 
light would  affect  my  hearing  in  the  least  if 
there  were  any  unusual  sounds,"  I  answered,  a 
little  flippantly. 

"  Perfectly,  and  as  these  sounds  were  not 
unusual,  Madame  would  neither  be  startled 
nor  notice  them.  There  is  nothing  remarkable 
in  footsteps  going  up-  and  down-stairs." 

"  There  are  no  stairs  near  the  library." 

"  Madame  has  seen  that  there  were  stairs 
formerly  just  outside." 

"  But  no  living  being  could  mount  a  van- 
ished stairway." 

"  That  goes  without  saying,  and  since 
Madame  has  heard  nothing,  there  is  nothing 
to  be  said." 


62  Feudal  Chateaux 

The  enigmatical  girl  glided  respectfully 
away,  leaving  my  curiosity  piqued.  Evidently 
there  was  some  story  of  ghostly  footfalls  here, 
and  since  it  was  my  province  to  collect  stories, 
I  had  acted  stupidly  in  discouraging  informa- 
tion. I  determined  that  if  opportunity  again 
offered  I  would  make  my  peace  with  Finette 
and  encourage  any  communication. 

The  evening  before  we  left  Chateau  La  Joy- 
euse  I  stepped  into  the  library  to  bid  farewell  to 
the  spot  I  had  enjoyed  so  much.  We  were  in 
the  long  days  of  summer,  and  the  afterglow 
of  the  western  sky  lighted  the  room  dimly,  but 
not  sufficiently  for  reading ;  so  I  patted  the 
old  books  gratefully  and  lovingly  on  their 
backs  of  well  thumbed  calf,  and  sat  down  for 
a  moment  in  the  great  arm-chair.  At  that 
instant  I  distinctly  heard  a  light,  quick  foot- 
step, apparently  mounting  a  hardwood  stair- 
case just  outside  the  wall.  I  was  startled,  but 
not  frightened,  and  I  listened  acutely.  The 
footfall  I  at  once  identified  as  that  of  a  lady, 
for  the  tap  of  the  little  shoe  on  the  uncar- 
peted  stair  was  buoyant,  light,  and  thoroughly 
excited.  She  was  fairly  running  up-stairs 
now ;  it  seemed  as  if  the  next  instant  she 
must  enter  the  door.  I  fancied  I  heard  the 
turning  of  the  bolt,  and  braced  myself  for  some 


Treasure-Trove  63 

apparition,  but  the  door  remained  closed  and  I 
saw  nothing.  There  was  no  sound  of  foot- 
steps going  down-stairs,  and,  impressed  with 
the  feeling  that  the  spectral  lady  must  be  on 
the  landing  outside,  I  again  threw  open  the 
door.  There  was  no  lady  and  no  landing ; 
only  the  same  deep  abyss,  indistinctly  lighted 
in  the  gloaming.  Again  I  heard  footsteps 
behind  me  and,  turning,  faced  Finette,  who 
was  bringing  in  a  lighted  lamp. 

She  did  not  repeat  her  question  and  ask 
whether  I  had  heard  anything.  A  look  of 
quick  intelligence  passed  across  her  face.  She 
knew  that  I  had  heard  it.  "  Yes,"  I  acknow- 
ledged, "  I  have  just  heard  the  family  ghost. 
Did  someone  fly  up  the  blazing  stairs  and 
perish  in  the  flames  as  the  walls  fell  in  ?  What 
was  the  story  ?  Who  was  the  lady  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,"  Finette  replied,  "  but 
Zephyre  might  tell.  She  and  her  mother 
before  her  were  in  service  here  since  their 
childhood.  I  used  to  ask  her  what  it  meant, 
and  she  knew,  though  she  would  not  tell  me. 
It  has  something  to  do  with  that  face.  Ask 
about  it  too." 

"  Where  is  Zdphyre  ?"  I  asked. 

"  I  do  not  know — perhaps  with  Anatole  ;  he 
keeps  a  good  inn  at  Ploermel,  the  Lion  d'Or. 


64  Feudal  Chateaux 

Madame  could  not  do  better  than  to  stop 
there.  Anatole  is  acquainted  with  all  the  re- 
gion thereabouts.  I  came  from  Ploermel  my- 
self. It  is  a  pretty  country." 

"  We  are  going  to  Ploermel,"  I  said,  "  and 
we  will  certainly  stop  at  the  Lion  d'Or." 

Finette  smiled ;  she  was  really  a  very 
pretty  woman.  "  And  if  Madame  will  have 
the  goodness  to  tell  Anatole  that  I  am  going  to 
Ploujean  to  see  the  mystery  play  of  St.  Gwen- 
ole  this  summer.  He  may  like  to  see  it  too." 

"  Tell  me  about  the  mystery  play,  Finette. 
"  I  have  no  doubt  that  I  would  like  to  see  it." 

Finette  was  apparently  ready  to  tell,  but 
the  Vicomte  entered.  "  You  are  not  going  to 
spend  your  last  evening  moping  here  by  your- 
self ? "  he  said,  and  Finette  slipped  quickly 
away.  A  cool  night  wind  had  begun  to  blow  up 
the  valley  and  flickered  the  flame  of  the  lamp, 
and  the  Vicomte  noticed  that  the  door  over- 
looking the  ruins  was  again  open.  He  made 
no  inquiries,  but  I  was  too  eager  for  the  story 
to  need  encouragement,  and  I  at  once  told  him 
what  had  happened,  and  asked  for  an  explana- 
tion of  the  sounds. 

"  It  is  very  simple  "  he  replied  reassuringly. 
"You  have  mistaken  the  scuffling  of  rats 
within  the  partition  for  footsteps  outside." 


Treasure-Trove  65 

I  was  not  convinced,  but  made  no  reply, 
for  after  all  he  might  be  right,  and  he  seemed 
satisfied  with  his  solution.  Before  he  closed 
the  open  door,  while  still  looking  out  into  the 
twilight,  which  yet  showed  us  the  void  beneath, 
he  demonstrated  the  physical  impossibility 
that  a  sound  of  footsteps  could  be  produced 
where  there  was  no  resonant  surface  on  which 
the  foot  could  fall.  Even  as  he  spoke,  the  un- 
canny tread  mounted  rapidly  toward  us,  with 
its  tap,  tap,  tap  of  the  light  foot  clear  and  dis- 
tinct, not  within  the  walls  but  out  on  the  open 
void  upon  the  vanished  stairway.  Did  the 
Vicomte  hear  it  ?  He  shivered  visibly,  then 
murmuring,  "  This  night  wind  is  very  danger- 
ous," hastily  closed  the  door.  Clearly  there 
was  only  one  person  who  could  or  would  ex- 
plain these  mysterious  sounds.  I  must  find 
Zephyre. 

But  though  the  Vicomte  was  averse  to 
talking  about  the  footsteps  he  was  quite  will- 
ing to  satisfy  my  curiosity  in  regard  to  the 
grotesque  face  so  far  as  it  lay  in  his  power  to 
do  so. 

"  It  is  the  story  of  Dunois,"  he  said,  "  one 
of  the  most  brilliant  pages  in  the  history  of 
France.  Yseult,  my  daughter,  sing  for  our 
friends  the  little  ballad  of  the  plus  vazllant." 


66  Feudal  Chateaux 

Yseult  seated  herself  at  the  piano  and 
sang  very  simply  and  sweetly  De  Labordes's 
charming  song : 

"  Partant  pour  la  Syrie 
Le  jeune  et  beau  Dunois 
Venait  prier  Marie 
De  benir  ses  exploits. 
'  Faites,  Reine  immortelle,' 
Lui,  dit  il  en  partant, 
'  Que  j'aime  la  plus  belle 
Et  sois  le  plus  vaillant.'  " 

"  His  prayer  was  certainly  answered,"  said 
the  Vicomte.  "  You  shall  hear  the  story  at 
Chateaudun,  Dunois's  own  castle.  That  shall 
be  the  first  stage  of  your  pilgrimage.  We 
will  drive  there  with  you  to-morrow.  You 
will  find  the  castle  one  of  the  most  picturesque 
in  France.  I  know  of  no  other  better  suited  to 
stand  as  a  type  of  the  best  architecture  of 
feudalism,  and  no  knight  who  better  than 
Dunois  represents  its  manhood." 

And  so  it  happened  that  in  company  with 
our  friends,  in  the  roomy  family  carriage  drawn 
by  the  tireless  Norman  horses,  Gamin  and 
Farceur,  we  visited  Chlteaudun  and  many  an- 
other castle.  We  found  Dunois's  proud  home 
all  that  the  Vicomte  had  promised,  and  agreed 
that  the  most  impressive  view  was  from  the 


Treasure-Trove  67 

Loir,  where  its  mighty  foundations  and  as- 
piring, turret-crowned  buttresses  tower  grandly 
upward,  and  are  perfectly  reflected  in  the  placid 
stream.  On  the  other  side  stands  the  ancient 
tenth-century  donjon,  with  its  pointed  roof  like 
a  cavalier's  hat.  Ivy  covers  its  massive  walls, 
which  are  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  high.  It 
is  one  of  the  oldest  of  cylindrical  towers, — 
old  when  Dunois  was  a  boy,  antedating  even 
Angers  and  Falaise.  Nestling  close  beside  it 
is  the  pretty  Gothic  chapel,  which  contains  a 
statue  of  Dunois.  The  fagade  of  the  chateau 
toward  the  inner  court  is  most  ornate,  covered 
as  it  is  with  flamboyant  Gothic  tracery,  and  the 
superb  staircase  is  only  less  famous  than  those 
of  Blois  and  Chambord. 

Told  in  this  well-preserved  castle,  Dunois's 
career  seemed  far  more  real  to  us  than  when 
remembered  as  a  subordinate  part  of  the  his- 
tory of  the  Maid  of  Orleans.  In  a  later  cha- 
teau pilgrimage,  we  found  him  as  a  boy  brought 
up  at  Blois  by  his  foster-mother,  Valentine  of 
Milan,  who  loved  him  as  much  as  she  did  her 
own  boys,  and  inculcated  upon  him  as  a  sacred 
duty  the  avenging  of  the  death  of  his  father, 
Louis  of  Orleans.  Destiny  had  a  nobler  task 
for  him,  but  family  love  and  pride  burned  very 
intensely  in  the  breast  of  this  scion  of  the  bar 


68  Feudal  Chateaux 

sinister.  He  especially  adored  his  brother 
Charles,  the  legitimate  head  of  the  house,  and 
when  this  gentle  prince  was  taken  prisoner  at 
Agincourt  and  confined  in  the  Tower  of  Lon- 
don, where  he  whiled  away  the  time  by  com- 
posing charming  poems,  Dunois  took  upon 
himself  the  task  of  defending  his  domains  and 
securing  his  rescue.  He  had  studied  with 
Charles,  and  was  far  better  educated  than  most 
nobles  of  his  age.  Valentine  had  herself 
directed  their  studies,  and  the  boys'  tutor  had 
been  the  celebrated  astrologer,  Florent  de  Vil- 
liers.  Dunois  was  eloquent  as  a  statesman, 
and  master  of  a  polished  style.  He  had  thought 
of  entering  the  Church  until  his  duty  to  his 
brother  Charles  and  later  on  to  his  country  be- 
came evident.  Charles,  too,  deeply  loved  his 
country  as  his  verses  written  in  captivity 
testify : 

"  En  regardant  vers  le  pays  de  France 
Un  jour  m'avint  a  Doove  sur  le  mer." 

But  he  loved  it  as  a  poet  and  an  artist,  as 
witness  the  charming  poem  written  after  his 
return : 

"  En  tirant  d  'Orleans  a  Blois 
L'autre  jour  par  eau  je  venoye." 

Dunois  was  far  the  stronger  nature,  and  this 


Treasure-Trove  69 

had  been  recognised  by  Valentine  in  his  boy- 
hood. His  only  thought  in  engaging  in  the 
war  at  first  was  to  preserve  Orleannais  for  his 
brother.  The  department  of  Eure  et  Loire,  in 
which  Chateaudun  is  situated,  formed  anciently 
a  part  of  this  province,  and  the  town  of  Cha- 
teaudun was  the  only  one  on  the  right  bank  of 
the  Loire  which  remained  French  during  the 
Hundred  Years'  War.  Four  hundred  of  its 
men  sought  Dunois  and  offered  him  their  serv- 
ices as  the  representative  of  their  Seigneur. 
They  were  among  the  following  with  which  he 
threw  himself  into  the  city  of  Orleans,  besieged 
by  the  English,  and  held  it  until  the  coming  of 
Joan  of  Arc,  and  were  foremost  in  the  first 
brilliant  sortie.  Dunois  placed  Joan  in  com- 
mand, constituting  himself  her  right  arm  in  the 
execution  of  her  orders.  The  raising  of  the 
siege  of  Orleans  was  the  turning-point  for 
France.  Even  the  capture  of  the  divine  Maid 
did  not  stagger  him.  He  swept  on  irresist- 
ibly. At  Chartres,  he  forced  the  English 
to  give  up  their  advance  on  Paris.  In  Nor- 
mandy, Rouen,  Harfleur,  Honfleur,  Caen,  Fa- 
laise,  Cherbourg,  surrendered  to  him.  His  first 
aim  had  been  achieved,  for  Charles  of  Orleans 
had  been  given  up  by  the  English  and  had 
returned  to  his  princedom.  The  meeting  be- 


70  Feudal  Chateaux 

tween  the  two  brothers  was  most  affecting. 
Hitherto  Dunois  had  been  known  simply  as 
Le  Batard  d  'Orleans,  but  now  his  brother 
created  him  Vicomte  of  Dunois,  and  gave  him 
as  appanage  the  estates  and  castle  of  Chateau- 
dun.  Nothing  could  have  better  pleased  his 
vassals,  for  they  had  long  given  him  fealty  of 
their  own  wills,  and  the  old  castle,  and  town  as 
well,  rang  with  rejoicing  as  its  new  lord  en- 
tered its  gates.  He  had  won  no  great  battles, 
for  he  had  never  had  an  army  of  any  size  at 
his  disposal,  only  the  men  who  owed  allegiance 
to  Orleans,  and  those  who  joined  him  won  by 
his  personal  magnetism.  His  career  had  been 
like  that  of  Du  Guesclin,  an  infinity  of  small 
victories  achieved  by  his  own  prowess  and 
the  devotion  of  his  little  band  of  followers. 
"  There  was  so  great  a  similarity  between 
these  heroes,"  said  the  Vicomte,  "  that  some 
thought  that  he  was  Du  Guesclin  come  again. 
Oddly  enough,  though  Du  Guesclin's  death 
preceded  Dunois's  birth  by  a  quarter  of  a 
century,  the  bit  of  armour  which  you  noticed 
in  my  library  was  a  link  between  them.  Du 
Guesclin's  widow,  though  very  aged,  was  living 
when  Dunois  first  became  famous,  and  she  sent 
the  hero,  by  her  grandson,  a  corselet  which 
had  belonged  to  her  husband.  It  had  always 


Treasure-Trove  71 

brought  him  good  fortune,  she  wrote,  and  she 
hoped  that  it  might  prove  a  talisman  of  success 
for  Dunois. 

"  Whether  the  talisman  had  anything  to  do 
with  his  success  we  may  well  doubt,  but  Dunois 
wore  the  corselet  through  his  victorious  cam- 
paign in  Guienne  when  Montguyon,  Blaye, 
Fronsac,  Bordeaux,  and  Bayonne  were  his,  and 
at  last  France  was  entirely  French,  never  again 
to  be  reconquered  by  the  invader. 

"  It  was  Dunois's  hour  of  greatest  triumph. 
The  King  created  him  Comte  de  Longueville 
and  Prince  legitime.  Legitimation  was  the 
boon  he  had  most  desired,  for  it  opened  the 
way  for  his  marriage  with  the  daughter  of 
the  Comte  de  Montgomery.  And  now,  Yseult, 
as  there  is  no  one  but  our  own  party  on  this 
side  of  the  chateau,  I  think  the  time  has  come 
for  the  last  verse  of  the  ballad." 

Yseult  sang  the  quaint  words  very  simply : 

"  A  1'autel  de  Marie 

Us  contractent  tous  deux 

Cette  union  cherie 

Qui  seule  rend  heureux. 

Chacun  dans  la  chapelle 

Disaient  en  les  voyant, 

Amour  a  la  plus  belle, 

Honneur  au  plus  vaillant." 

As  we  listened  we  thought  of  the  splendid 


72  Feudal  Chateaux 

record,  how  for  twenty-five  years  Dunois  and 
his  men  of  Chateaudun  fought  disinterestedly 
for  France,  and  our  hearts  thrilled  as  though 
they  too  were  French. 

"  He  was  one  of  the  last  of  our  knights," 
said  the  Vicomte.  "  Feudalism  was  passing 
when  he  passed. 

"  Between  the  history  of  Dunois  and  the  le- 
gend of  Viviane,  between  Chateaudun  and 
Broecilande  a  long  procession  of  castles  and  of 
knights  welcomes  you  to  the  land  of  romance. 
Yseult  and  I  will  attend  you  a  short  distance 
farther  on  your  pilgrimage.  I  have  told  you 
the  tradition  of  the  grotesque  face  as  it  is  pre- 
served in  our  family,  but  it  is  far  more  ancient 
than  Du  Guesclin's  time.  Its  history  must 
embrace  the  entire  feudal  period.  You  have 
read  the  story  backward  from  the  present  for  a 
little  way,  and  I  shall  be  very  glad  if  you  are 
able  to  trace  it  to  its  beginning." 

So  we  journeyed  together,  collecting  the  early 
legends  which  were  told  by  one  story-teller  to 
another  before  they  were  set  down  in  print  or 
writing — stories  of  wizard  or  Druid,  of  ghosts 
and  demons,  and  the  adventures  of  half-mythical 
knights, 

"  Aback  in  the  darlingest  days  of  the  earth, 
The  dear  dead  days  that  are  lost  to  sight." 


Treasure-Trove  73 

In  our  wanderings  we  visited  many  ruins  of 
old  feudal  castles  and  a  few  that  were  faithfully 
preserved  or  carefully  restored.  We  found 
much  treasure  of  romance  and  roused  many 
an  unfamiliar  spectre ;  and  ever  and  anon 
we  caught  the  gleam  of  the  fiery  eyes  and  the 
sound  of  the  inexplicable  footsteps. 

And  those  who  have  patience  to  follow  this 
phantom  hunt  to  the  finish  shall  learn  how, 
bafHed  where  we  had  sought  most  confidently, 
we  tracked  our  game  to  earth  over  the  vanished 
staircase  where  we  had  roused  it,  and  found  it 
at  last  at  the  Troubadour's  Court  of  Love  sum- 
moned by  Yseult  La  Joyeuse. 


CHAPTER  II 

ANGERS,  THE  MOTHER  CASTLE 

ONE  of  the  oldest  castles  in  France,  in  ap- 
pearance as  well  as  in  its  history,  is  the 
giant  fortress  of  Angers.  Huge  and  grim,  un- 
softened  by  architectural  decoration  of  any 
kind,  it  suggests  an  age  of  strength  and  bru- 
tality, of  rude  assault,  cruel  torture,  and  long 
imprisonment,  with  death  the  only  possible 
deliverer  from  its  relentless  dungeons. 

"  She  looks  the  mother  castle  of  all  the 
chateaux-forts  of  France,"  was  Yseult's  exclam- 
ation, as  we  four,  Yseult,  the  Vicomte,  the 
artist,  and  I,  drove  toward  it  across  the  long 
bridge. 

"  Those  seventeen  titanic  towers  clustered 
about  her  are  her  stalwart  sons.  She  is  a 

74 


Angers,  the  Mother  Castle          75 

powerful  but  not  altogether  an  agreeable 
mother,  to  be  dreaded  even  by  her  own  children, 
merciless  in  the  punishment  of  their  faults  as 
well  as  in  the  revenge  of  their  wrongs." 

The  Vicomte  smiled  approvingly.  "  Your 
metaphor  is  not  far  wrong,  my  child,  for 
Angers  is  the  mother  castle  in  more  than 
mere  semblance.  You  will  find  the  great 
names  of  the  families  that  have  been  nursed 
in  her  arms  making  themselves  and  their 
chateaux  distinguished  in  the  history  of  the 
nation.  Angers's  importance  can  be  realised 
when  we  learn  that  she  was  early  considered 
the  key  of  France,  and  bears  for  her  blazon  a 
silver  key  on  a  red  shield  beneath  the  royal 
lilies  :  '  de  gueules  a,  la  clef  d' argent,  pose"  en 
pal  au  chef  d'azur  charge"  de  deux  fleurs-de-lys 
dor: 

"  This  was  not  only  a  strategic  point  greatly 
to  be  desired  by  the  foreign  invader,  as  it  con- 
trolled the  outlet  of  the  rivers  of  Brittany,  and 
by  its  vassal  forts  the  navigation  of  the  Loire, 
but  as  a  frontier  fortress  between  Brittany, 
Maine,  Anjou,  and  Touraine  it  was  a  pivotal 
point  for  internal  warfare  between  the  power- 
ful chiefs  of  these  provinces. 

"  The  castle  appears  older  than  it  really  is, 
for  the  present  fortress  was  built  by  Philippe 


76  Feudal  Chateaux 

Auguste,  while  one  could  readily  believe  that  it 
is  the  stronghold  which  originally  occupied  this 
site  which  was  the  birthplace  of  the  Foulques 
of  Anjou,  the  far-away  ancestors  of  the  Plan- 
tagenets,  before  they  built  their  new  home  of 
Chinon,  now  crumbling  into  ruin." 

"  I  do  not  believe  that  the  Foulques  were 
pleasant  people,"  Yseult  persisted.  "  Cer- 
tainly not  if  their  rule  was  anything  like  the 
personified  gloom  with  which  the  castle  domin- 
ates the  '  Black  City.'  The  influence  which 
it  exercises  is  positively  sinister.  I  am  sure 
something  tragical  will  happen  to  us  under  its 
shadow"- — and  she  shivered  as  she  spoke. 

"It  has  had  its  share  of  tragedy  in  the 
past,"  said  the  Vicomte.  "  The  fate  which 
seemed  to  brood  over  it  must  have  spent  itself, 
and  can  have  no  power  over  us." 

But  Yseult  was  right,  the  Foulques  were  not 
agreeable  characters  ;  this  the  Vicomte  himself 
admitted,  as  he  told  us  their  histories.  One 
of  the  least  objectionable  of  the  traditions 
preserved  of  Foulque  Nerra,  the  Black  Falcon, 
is  that  having  resigned  to  his  son  Geoffrey 
the  administration  of  his  countship,  and  be- 
ing displeased  with  his  son's  misconduct  of 
it,  he  made  him  do  several  miles  crawling 
on  the  ground  with  a  saddle  on  his  back, 


Angers,  the  Mother  Castle          77 

taunting  him  the  while  by  crying,  "  Thou'rt 
beaten,  thou'rt  beaten." 

"Ay,  beaten,"  replied  Geoffrey,  "but  by  my 
father  only ;  to  any  other  I  am  invincible." 
This  reply  so  pleased  the  old  man  that  they 
were  reconciled  on  the  spot. 

More  ghastly  was  the  story  of  his  burning 
his  wife  at  the  stake  for  infidelity,  and  "  lead- 
ing her  to  her  doom  dressed  in  her  gayest 
attire." 

In  spite  of  his  crimes  Foulque  Nerra  was 
a  most  remarkable  man  ;  "a  consummate 
general,  cool-headed,  clear-sighted,  quick  to 
resolve,  quicker  to  strike.  At  his  accession 
in  987,  Anjou  was  the  least  important  of 
the  greater  provinces  of  France.  At  his 
death  in  1040,  it  stood  first  among  them 
all."  Brittany,  Touraine,  a  large  portion  of 
the  domain  of  Blois  and  Maine,  marked  the 
full  tide  of  his  success,  which  brought  him  to 
Normandy.  After  his  death  his  son  found 
himself  unable  to  cope  with  William  the  Con- 
queror, but  the  family  still  remained  so  pow- 
erful that  the  son  of  William  was  glad  to 
placate  it  by  giving  his  daughter,  Maud,  to 
Geoffrey,  and  from  the  union  of  these  two 
remarkable  lines  sprang  the  Plantagenets. 

Foulque  Rechin,  the  Brawler,  married  Ber- 


78  Feudal  Chateaux 

trarde  de  Monfort,  of  the  ducal  family  of  Brit- 
tany (and  we  shall  meet  with  the  de  Monforts 
again  and  again  in  our  wanderings  through 
the  history  and  the  land  of  France),  but  this 
marriage  was  not  a  happy  one,  for  the  King, 
Philip  I.,  fell  passionately  in  love  with  this 
Countess  of  Anjou,  and  with  her  connivance 
caused  her  to  be  seized  and  carried  away  by 
his  people,  whom  he  had  left  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  the  castle. 

For  twelve  years  he  openly  defied  the  Pope, 
who  bade  him  return  Bertrarde,  and  jeered  at 
his  excommunication.  "  It  was  the  custom," 
says  William  of  Malmesbury,  "  at  the  places 
where  the  King  sojourned,  for  divine  service  to 
be  stopped,  and  as  soon  as  he  was  moving 
away  all  the  bells  began  to  peal.  And  then 
Philip  would  cry,  as  he  laughed  like  one 
beside  himself,  '  Dost  hear,  my  love,  how 
they  are  ringing  us  out  ? ' ' 

At  length  the  guilty  couple  took  a  vow 
to  separate  and  "  to  hold  no  intercourse 
or  companionship,"  and  were  released  from 
excommunication.  Bertrarde,  however,  still 
maintained  her  position  as  nominal  queen. 
Two  years  later  the  King  and  Queen  were 
the  guests  of  Foulque  in  his  castle. 

Vital,  the  most  complete  of  the  chroniclers 


Angers,  the  Mother  Castle         79 

of  this  time,  says  of  this  extraordinary  meet- 
ing of  Bertrarde's  two  husbands  :  "  This  cle- 
ver woman  had  by  her  skilful  management 
so  perfectly  reconciled  these  two  rivals,  that 
she  made  them  a  splendid  feast  and  got  them 
both  to  sit  at  the  same  table." 
The  Abbe  Serger  adds  : 

"  This  sprightly  and  rarely  accomplished  woman,  well 
versed  in  the  art,  familiar  to  her  sex,  of  holding  captive 
the  husbands  they  have  outraged,  had  acquired  such  an 
empire  over  her  first  husband,  the  Count  of  Anjou,  in 
spite  of  the  affront  she  had  put  upon  him  by  deserting 
him,  that  he  treated  her  with  homage  as  his  sovereign, 
often  sat  upon  a  stool  at  her  feet,  and  obeyed  her  wishes 
by  a  sort  of  enchantment." 

Two  bridges  cross  the  river  Maine  at  An- 
gers. One  is  called  the  Pont  de  la  Haute 
Chaine,  the  other  the  Pont  de  la  Basse  Chaine. 
They  take  their  name  from  two  great  chains 
which  were  stretched  across  the  river  at  these 
points  in  feudal  times,  to  obstruct  hostile  navi- 
gation, and  to  protect  the  Black  City,  which 
was  comprised  between  these  limits,  huddled 
beneath  the  walls  of  the  castle.  Standing  on 
the  lower  bridge  to-day  and  looking  up  at  the 
colossal  towers  with  walls  twelve  feet  in  thick- 
ness, and,  though  truncated,  still  seventy  feet 
in  height,  we  could  scarcely  resist  the  impres- 
sion that  they  were  still  the  home  of  the 


8o  Feudal  Chateaux 

Foulques,  so  much  has  this  stupendous  fortress 
in  common  with  that  formidable  family. 

Our  garrulous  guide  would  have  had  us 
believe  that  this  very  structure  was  the  home 
of  the  Foulques,  and  of  the  prehistoric  kings 
of  western  Gaul.  He  led  us  to  the  old  Tour 
du  Diable,  solemnly  declaring  that  the  Em- 
press Ermengarde  died  here  while  visiting  her 
aunt,  the  sister  of  Charlemagne. 

The  Vicomte  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
"  Hardly  in  this  tower,"  he  said  to  us,  "  though 
the  Empress  really  died  at  Angers  while  her 
husband,  Louis  le  Debonnaire,  the  son  of 
Charlemagne,  was  fighting  near  this  spot  with 
Morvan,  the  last  of  the  Celtic  kings.  Roland, 
too,  the  hero  of  Roncesvalles,  was  born  here, 
but  the  castle  of  their  time  antedated  that  of 
the  Foulques.  There  can  hardly  be  any  ves- 
tiges of  it  in  the  present  structure." 

"  Pardon,  Monsieur,"  said  the  guide  respect- 
fully but  firmly,  "  that  tower  is  far  older  than 
Morvan.  It  was  a  part  of  the  palace  of  his 
ancestors,  the  early  Celtic  kings.  King  Ar- 
thur gave  it  to  Merlin.  See,  on  the  outside 
you  can  trace  the  vestiges  of  the  staircase  by 
which  he  used  to  come  and  go  without  passing 
through  the  palace,  or  being  challenged  by  the 
guards.  After  he  went  away  to  his  invisible 


Angers,  the  Mother  Castle          81 

chateau  in  the  Forest  of  Broecilande,  the  stair- 
case was  removed,  lest  some  enemy  might 
steal  in.  But  they  say,"  here  the  guide 
dropped  his  voice  mysteriously,  "that  on 
certain  nights  Merlin  comes  just  the  same, 
and  his  footsteps  are  heard  pattering  up  and 
down  where  no  staircase  is." 

"  Nonsense  ! "  snapped  the  Vicomte  crustily  ; 
"  who  retails  such  falsehoods  ?  " 

"  My  belle-mire,  Monsieur.  She  went  to  the 
convent  school  and  learned  them  of  the  nuns, 
so  they  are  all  true.  If  Monsieur  will  come 
to  our  house  this  afternoon — it  is  back  of  the 
little  chocolate-shop  near  the  cathedral — la 
belle-mere  will  tell  you  all  of  the  old  legends  of 
Angers  over  the  best  cup  of  chocolate  to  be 
found  in  France." 

Of  course  I  took  the  bait  and  the  chocolate. 
My  husband,  the  artist  of  our  company,  had 
decided  to  make  a  sketch  of  the  old  tower. 
Yseult  also  settled  herself  with  pencil  and 
paper  in  a  corner  of  the  bastion,  but  it  was  not 
to  sketch.  She  was  always  writing  letters 
whenever  opportunity  was  afforded — letters 
which  were  addressed  to  Monsieur  Louis 
Rondel,  the  young  architect,  who  was  visiting 
at  Chateau  La  Joyeuse,  but  who  had  not  been 
invited  by  the  Vicomte  to  accompany  us  in 

6 


82  Feudal  Chateaux 

this  driving  tour,  though  he  had  expressed 
great  interest  in  the  feudal  chateaux. 

As  the  Vicomte  passed  with  me  out  of  the 
castle  gate,  I  caught  sight  within  the  lodge  of 
a  familiar  figure.  What  could  have  brought 
Louis  Rondel  to  Angers  ? 

I  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  stop  then  and 
there  and  investigate,  or  to  draw  the  Vicomte's 
attention  to  the  presence  of  the  young  man. 
He  would  easily  find  Yseult  upon  the  ram- 
parts, and  they  could  endure  the  Vicomte's 
absence  for  an  hour  or  so.  How  amusing  it 
would  be  to  banter  Yseult  about  her  premon- 
ition of  evil  doom  to  happen  at  Angers  ! 

The  Vicomte  escorted  me  to  the  little  choc- 
olate-shop, but  he  did  not  enter ;  and  he 
warned  me  as  he  left  that  la  belle-meres  tales 
would  probably  prove  most  unreliable.  Then, 
courteously  promising  to  call  for  me  in  an 
hour,  he  passed  under  that  cathedral  portal 
crowned  by  so  many  statues  of  chivalric  figures, 
his  own,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  as  worthy  as  any 
there  to  wear  knightly  armour.  He  bore  his 
sixty-five  years  lightly  ;  his  head  was  white,  but 
he  carried  it  erect  save  when  he  bowed  it  to 
woman,  or,  as  now,  at  the  shrine  of  his  religion. 

La  belle-meres  chocolate  was  high-priced 
and  poor,  but  la  belle-mere  herself  was  im- 


Angers,  the  Mother  Castle          83 

mense,  and  this  term  may  be  understood  both 
literally  and  figuratively,  for  physically  she 
was  elephantine,  and  as  a  story-teller  excep- 
tionally endowed,  accompanying  her  mono- 
logue with  expressive  gestures  which  gave  to 
the  legends  a  vividness  not  to  be  conveyed  by 
cold  type. 1 

THE  MOTHER  CASTLE'S  FIRST  HERO 

* 

One  of  the  early  lords  of  Angers  was  Milon, 
a  Celtic  chief.  He  married  Berthe,  the  sister 
of  Charlemagne,  having  the  good  sense  not  to 
contend  against  the  invincible  power  of  the 
Emperor.  They  had  two  children  :  a  son, 
Roland,  and  a  daughter,  Fleur  d'Epine  (or 
Briar  Rose),  so  named  because  the  pink  eglan- 
tine which  tapestried  the  garden  side  of  the 
walls  of  Angers  was  not  more  delicate  than 
her  lovely  face. 

Though  Berthe  was  a  Christian,  Milon  was 
a  follower  of  the  old  Druidical  religion.  The 
paganism  of  the  Romans,  only  half  believed  by 
themselves,  had  made  no  converts  in  Brittany. 
The  Bretons  are  an  earnest  people,  and  were 
either  frankly  savages  or  Christians.  Besides, 

1 1  have  emended  la  belle-mire's  early  history  of  the  hero  of 
Roncesvalles,  by  the  introduction  here  and  there  of  incidents  related 
in  Mr.  Baldwin's  painstaking  collation  of  myths  bearing  upon  the 
story  of  Roland. 


84  Feudal  Chateaux 

Druidism  was  the  patriotic  religion,  and  it  was 
like  betraying  one's  country  for  a  Breton  to 
give  it  up.  Milon  kept  hidden,  in  the  topmost 
chamber  of  that  tower  of  the  castle  which  is 
now  called  the  Tour  du  Diable,  a  Druid  priest 
greatly  venerated  in  this  region,  but  con- 
demned to  death  by  the  laws  of  Charlemagne. 
On  certain  nights  his  followers  met  him  among 
the  dolmens  and  merlins  of  the  Morbihan, 
and  once  a  year  it  was  said  a  human  sacrifice 
took  place. 

The  Druid's  name  was  Maugis  ;  he  was  also 
a  powerful  enchanter,  and  had  either  been  a 
pupil  of  Merlin  and  knew  the  way  through  the 
Forest  of  Broecilande  to  the  enchanted,  castle 
where  Merlin  was  held  a  prisoner,  where  he 
received  his  counsels,  or,  as  more  believed,  he 
was  Merlin's  avatar  or  second  incarnation,  and 
the  staircase  which  led  to  Maugis's  study  is 
still  called  Merlin's  Stairs. 

He  cast  Roland's  horoscope  on  his  birth, 
and  had  assured  Milon  that  the  babe  would 
become  a  great  hero,  for  in  his  form  was  the 
soul  of  great  Hector  of  Troy. 

Milon  was  delighted,  for  he  was  himself  of 
Greek  origin,  through  an  ancestor  who  had 
been  shipwrecked  several  centuries  before  on 
the  Breton  coast. 


Angers,  the  Mother  Castle          85 

"  Roland  must  go  in  search  of  Hector's 
armour,"  said  Merlin,  "  for  if  Hector's  sword 
is  ever  held  in  Roland's  hand  it  will  be  in- 
vincible." 

"That  shall  be  his  first  adventure,"  said 
Milon,  "but  until  he  is  of  age  I  will  teach  him 
the  use  of  arms,  and  his  mother  the  lore  of 
books."  So  Roland  grew  up  in  the  grim 
castle,  a  lonely  life  but  for  his  little  sister 
Fleur  d'Epine,  and  his  friend  Olivier,  and  his 
friend's  sister,  "la  belle  Aude." 

Roland  learned  more  than  the  lore  of  books 
from  his  mother,  for  he  became  a  Christian, 
and  gentle  of  manners.  One  day  he  confided 
to  his  mother  that  he  loved  Aude  and  desired 
her  blessing. 

"  Is  it  so  soon  ?"  Berthe  replied  ;  "  then  it  is 
time  that  you  started  on  your  adventures,  for 
love  is  not  to  be  won  except  by  high  emprise." 
And  she  asked  her  husband  to  send  Roland  to 
the  court  of  his  uncle,  the  great  Charlemagne, 
that  he  might  be  made  a  knight. 

That  night  Milon  led  Roland  with  him  up 
the  Stairs  of  Merlin  to  Maugis,  told  him  of  his 
resolve  to  send  Roland  to  Charlemagne,  and 
desired  the  enchanter  to  provide  him  with  a 
suit  of  magic  armour. 

"  That  can  I  not  do  personally,"  said  Mau- 


86  Feudal  Chateaux 

gis,  "  but  Morgan  le  Fay  is  a  friend  of  mine. 
She  is  the  fairy  men  call  Good  Luck.  If  she 
takes  a  fancy  to  Roland  she  will  arm  him,  and 
he  will  always  be  fortunate." 

Maugis  sat  down  at  a  lectern,  and  began  to 
read  from  a  book  of  enchantment  which  had 
been  written  by  Merlin.  One  of  the  proper- 
ties of  the  book  was  that  the  person  who  read 
in  it  knew  all  that  he  wished  on  any  subject, 
but  if  he  read  aloud  all  who  listened  fell  into 
a  magic  sleep  and  dreamed  whatever  the 
reader  listed. 

Maugis  allowed  Roland  to  read  the  direc- 
tions to  the  Forest  of  Brcecilande,  in  which 
was  the  palace  of  Morgan  le  Fay.  Roland 
went  away  upon  his  adventure,  but  returned 
without  the  arms. 

"  Did  you  not  find  Morgan  le  Fay  ?  "  asked 
Maugis. 

"Oh  yes,"  Roland  replied,  "I  found  her 
palace  very  easily,  and  found  her,  too,  in  her 
enchanted  garden,  where  rubies,  amethysts, 
and  other  precious  gem  stones  grow  instead  of 
flowers.  She  is  very  tiny,  and  she  was  dancing 
and  singing  when  I  entered  the  garden.  I  sat 
down  to  look  at  her  and  she  danced  all  around 
me ;  sometimes  she  pirouetted  on  my  knee  ;  I 
could  have  caught  her  very  easily,  but  I  feared 


Angers,  the  Mother  Castle         87 

to  injure  her  gauzy  wings  with  my  great  hand. 
I  wanted,  too,  to  make  out  the  words  of  her 
song.  At  length  she  poised  upon  my  shoulder 
and  sang  it  in  my  ear : 

'  Seekest  thou  gifts  from  Morgan  le  Fay  ? 
Seize  her,  seize  her,  while  you  may  ! 
Once,  and  only  once,  men  say, 
To  everyone  she  shows  the  way — 
Fortune's  a  fickle  fairy.' 

"  Then  I  sprang  up  and  tried  to  catch  her, 
but — whirr !  she  danced  away,  out  of  the  gar- 
den, through  the  wood,  over  a  bog  in  which  I 
sank,  and  from  which  I  had  great  trouble  in 
extricating  myself.  Then  I  found  myself 
before  the  door  of  a  castle,  and  when  I 
knocked  and  inquired  if  Morgan  le  Fay  was 
there,  a  hideous  old  hag  came  out  and  beat 
me  with  a  whip  of  knotted  cords.  I  could 
easily  have  killed  her,  but  she  was  so  old  I 
would  not  lift  my  hand  against  her,  though  I 
remonstrated  and  said,  '  Mother,  why  do  you 
punish  me  thus  ? '  And  she  replied  :  '  I  am  Re- 
pentance. I  scourge  everyone  who  through 
cowardice  or  carelessness  neglects  to  seize  the 
fairy  fortune  at  his  one  golden  opportunity. 
Go  away ;  you  will  never  be  lucky.  Every 
good  thing  that  you  obtain  will  have  to  be 


88  Feudal  Chateaux 

worked  for  and  fought  for,  well  deserved  and 
dearly  earned.' ' 

Maugis  looked  at  the  youth  sadly  but  kindly, 
and  again  opened  Merlin's  book  of  enchant- 
ment. 

"  I  learn  here,"  he  said,  "  that  the  witch 
spoke  the  truth,  but  there  are  those  who 
wrestle  with  evil  fortune  and  overcome  it ;  and 
they  are  stronger  than  those  who  have  every- 
thing given  them  without  their  exertion.  I 
had  hoped  that  Morgan  le  Fay  would  give 
thee  a  suit  of  magical  armour  that  would  keep 
thee  unscathed,  but  thou  must  go  out  to  thy 
battles  unprotected,  and  many  a  wound  and 
bruise  wilt  thou  receive,  with  defeat  at  times 
and  imprisonment.  Thy  lot  is  no  better  than 
that  of  any  ordinary  mortal,  excepting  as  thou 
canst  make  it  better  by  thine  own  undaunted 
spirit." 

And  Roland  answered :  "  Right  glad  am  I 
that  it  is  so,  for  there  is  no  zest  in  striving 
when  the  victory  is  assured,  and  I  am  not 
afraid." 

"  There  are  other  things  to  fear  besides 
buffets  in  battle,"  said  Maugis.  "Thou  wilt 
meet  not  only  knights  but  ladies,  and  ladies 
are  often  the  more  dangerous.  Thou  hast  no 
shield  to  protect  thee  against  the  swords  of 


Angers,  the  Mother  Castle         89 

the  knights  or  the  charms  of  false  women." 

"  Nenni,  but  that  I  have,"  Roland  contra- 
dicted. "  La  Belle  Aude  has  given  me  this 
scarf  of  sarcenet  to  wear  as  her  favour.  I  will 
tie  it  about  my  eyes  and  stuff  the  ends  in  my 
ears,  for  beauty  can  have  no  temptation  to  a 
blind  man,  nor  the  song  of  the  siren  enter  deaf 
ears." 

"It  is  well,"  said  Maugis ;  "and  I  give  thee 
here  the  golden  spurs  of  King  Arthur,  and 
will  provide  thee  with  an  enchanted  horse 
which  will  take  thee  swiftly  out  of  all  peril, 
outstripping  every  foe,  even  the  last  enemy, 
Death,  for  it  is  his  '  pale  horse '  which  I  shall 
steal  when  next  he  comes  to  our  yearly  sacri- 
fice. Mounted  on  that  courser  he  will  never 
be  able  to  overtake  thee,  and  thou  shalt  never 
die,  but  be  changed  from  one  hero  to  another. 
This  steed  I  will  give  thee  on  one  condition." 

"What  is  that?"  asked  Roland. 

"  That  thou  abjure  the  Christian  religion." 

"  Never ! " 

"Then  at  last  thou  must  die,  and  leave  this 
beautiful  earth.  In  thy  hour  of  mortal  agony 
remember  that  the  Christian  religion  is  one  of 
death,  and  thou  mightest  have  been  immortal." 

"  Nay,"  Roland  replied ;  "  it  is  by  dying  that 
I  shall  become  so." 


90  Feudal  Chateaux 

Maugis  was  offended,  for  it  is  hard  to  have 
gifts  scorned  and  requests  denied,  even  by 
those  we  love.  When  at  the  next  Druidical 
sacrifice,  while  Death  claimed  his  victim,  Mau- 
gis secured  the  "  pale  horse,"  and  carried  it 
not  to  the  stables  of  Angers,  but  to  those  of 
Duke  Aymon  of 'Dordogne,  who  had  four  sons 
that  Maugis  loved  almost  as  much  as  he  loved 
Roland. 

So  Roland  set  out  for  Charlemagne's  court 
without  sword  or  armour  and  on  foot,  like  a 
simple  palmer. 

But  when  Charlemagne  saw  him  and  knew 
that  he  was  his  sister's  son,  he  loved  him,  and 
made  him  one  of  his  paladins,  and  Defender  of 
the  Marches  of  Brittany.  And  he  dubbed  him 
knight  and  took  him  into  his  own  armory  to 
arm  him,  and  Roland  had  great  admiration  for 
the  emperor's  sword,  "  Monjoie."  "  But  this," 
said  his  uncle,  "  I  cannot  give  thee.  It  was 
forged  from  the  spearhead  which  pierced  our 
Saviour's  side.  Monjoie  it  is,  and  its  name  is 
my  rallying-cry  in  battle.  But  here  is  another 
sword  which  I  won  at  a  tournament  from  the 
Emperor  of  Constantinople.  Its  name  is  Du- 
randal.  This  I  have  never  carried,  for  I  have 
sworn  to  use  no  sword  but  Monjoie,  and  it 
has  hung  idle  in  my  armory.  See,  it  bears 


Angers,  the  Mother  Castle         91 

damascened  upon  its  blade  the  device,  '  I  am 
Durandal,  which  Trojan  Hector  wore.'" 

When  Roland  heard  that  he  uttered  a  cry 
of  delight.  "  It  is  that  sword  above  all  others 
that  I  desire,"  he  cried,  "  for  my  father  has  told 
me  that  if  I  can  obtain  it  I  will  do  great  deeds." 

"  That  doubt  I  not,"  said  the  Emperor,  "  but 
this  sword  is  not  to  be  given — it  is  to  be  won. 
See,  it  bears  upon  the  reverse  of  the  blade, 
'  Let  honour  be  to  him  who  most  deserveth 
it.'  I  will  make  it  the  prize  of  a  tournament. 
Earn  it  if  thou  canst." 

Then  Roland  was  cast  down,  for  he  knew 
that  the  most  valorous  knights  would  fight  for 
Durandal,  and  he  was  in  nowise  puffed  up  as 
to  his  own  prowess.  "  I  shall  do  my  best,"  he 
said,  "  and  there  is  no  disgrace  in  failure  when 
one  has  done  that." 

"  There  is  no  disgrace  in  such  failure,"  re- 
peated the  Emperor,  "  but  neither  is  there 
guerdon,  and  unless  thou  win,  thou  gettest  not 
Durandal." 

Now  Roland  had  no  sword  with  which  to 
fight,  and  the  Emperor  bade  him  borrow  a 
sword  where  he  could,  since  it  was  his  ambi- 
tion not  to  own  one  until  he  had  earned 
it.  Ogier,  the  Dane,  was  the  most  renowned 
knight  at  the  court,  and  he  loved  Roland,  and 


92  Feudal  Chateaux 

said  to  him :  "  I  shall  not  strive  in  this  tourna- 
ment, for  I  am  past  the  age  which  the  King 
has  set.  Take  thou  my  sword  ;  it  is  short 
but  strong."  Roland  took  it  very  gratefully, 
and  read  the  inscription  on  the  blade :  "  I  am 
Cortana  the  Short.  He  who  has  the  right 
on  his  side  need  not  fear  the  might  of  the 
wrong-doer." 

Although  Charlemagne  had  decided  that 
Roland  should  earn  his  armour,  wearing 
none  in  the  tournament,  but  assuming  that 
of  the  knight  whom  he  overthrew,  he  was  not 
utterly  without  interest  in  his  nephew  ;  and 
since  he  had  made  the  conditions  so  hard  for 
him,  he  determined  to  supply  him  with  one 
proof  of  his  affection  and  he  offered  him  a 
horn  that  had  belonged  to  Charles  Martel, 
beautifully  engraved  and  inlaid  with  gold,  and 
cunningly  constructed  from  the  horn  of  an 
unicorn.  But  no  one  since  Charles  Martel 
had  been  able  to  sound  it.  "  Blow  it,"  said 
the  Emperor,  thinking  to  amuse  himself  with 
Roland's  failure.  Roland  blew  a  blast  of  such 
sonorous  strength  and  sweetness  that  it  was 
heard  all  over  France.  "  Keep  the  horn,"  said 
Charlemagne,  "  but  do  not  blow  it  again  unless 
thou  art  in  direst  need,  when  I  will  not  fail  to 
come  to  thy  succour." 


Angers,  the  Mother  Castle          93 

Roland's  fancy  was  also  greatly  taken  by 
a  cuirass  adorned  with  a  bronze  face  which 
reminded  him  strongly  of  his  friend  Maugis. 
"  I  would  give  thee  that  cuirass,"  said  the 
Emperor,  "were  it  not  that  it  brings  ill  fort- 
une to  the  wearer.  It  also  belonged  to 
Charles  Martel ;  it  was  taken  from  the  body 
of  a  Moorish  prince  whom  he  slew  at  the  bat- 
tle of  Tours,  and  everyone  who  has  worn  it 
has  been  slain  in  battle.  Better  were  it  for 
thee  to  go  to  thine  encounter  unprotected 
than  to  wear  that  evil  thing." 

But  Roland  still  craved  the  cuirass.  "  It  is 
written,"  he  said,  "  that  I  shall  have  no  help 
from  Fortune,  but  neither  fear  I  her  tricks. 
An  undaunted  and  a  pure  heart  cannot  be 
harmed  by  her,  even  though  he  fight  without 
her  help." 

Thus  besought,  Charlemagne  gave  him  the 
cuirass,  and,  as  you  will  see,  it  brought  him  no 
ill  luck.  On  the  first  day  that  he  wore  it  La 
Belle  Aude  came  to  Paris  with  her  brother  to 
witness  the  tournament,  and  her  betrothal 
with  Roland  was  approved  by  the  Emperor. 
Charlemagne  also  determined  to  provide 
his  nephew  with  a  mount  worthy  of  a 
prince,  and  he  therefore  announced  that  a 
horse-race  would  take  place  before  the 


94  Feudal  Chateaux 

tournament,  offering  a  magnificent  prize  for 
the  winner. 

Duke  Aymon  was  in  disgrace,  through  no 
fault  of  his,  and  he  and  his  sons  had  been 
banished  from  court ;  but  when  Guichard,  the 
youngest  of  the  four,  heard  of  this  race  he 
determined  to  attend  in  disguise  and  compete 
with  the  horse  Bayard,  which  Maugis  had 
given  them.  All  the  knights  of  France  flocked 
to  the  tournament,  and  the  most  celebrated 
horses  in  the  world  were  entered  for  the  race. 

Among  the  distinguished  guests  were  the 
Prince  and  Princess  of  Cathay,  Argalia  and 
his  sister  Angelica.  They  had  come  with  evil 
intent,  to  conquer  all  of  Charlemagne's  knights, 
Argalia  by  the  help  of  an  enchanted  spear, 
and  Angelica  by  her  marvellous  beauty. 

Argalia  took  no  part  in  the  races,  but  as 
they  sat  among  the  spectators  his  sister  was 
the  observed  of  all  observers,  and  many  could 
not  fix  their  attention  upon  the  horses  for  the 
rival  attraction  of  her  beautiful  eyes.  Even 
Roland  forgot  to  bind  his  eyes  with  the  scarf 
of  La  Belle  Aude,  but  sat  gazing  upon  Angelica 
as  one  spellbound,  as  indeed  he  was.  Gui- 
chard himself,  as  he  rode  up  on  Bayard,  looked 
at  her  and  not  at  the  goal,  and  he  would  surely 
have  lost  the  race  if  his  own  conduct  of  his 


Angers,  the  Mother  Castle         95 

steed  had  had  anything  to  do  with  the  result. 
But  the  enchanted  horse  needed  no  jockey 
and  gained  every  course. 

Charlemagne  was  delighted  with  the  animal 
and  determined  to  purchase  him  for  Roland. 
He  sent  for  the  owner,  who  rode  up  to  the 
steps  of  the  dais,  and  demanded  the  price  of 
this  wonderful  horse. 

"  He  is  not  for  sale,"  the  young  man  replied 
proudly,  "  and  I  am  Guichard,  son  of  Aymon, 
who  contemns  thy  riches  and  defies  thy  pow- 
er." So  saying  he  struck  spurs  into  Bayard 
and  vanished  before  he  could  be  seized. 
'  Charlemagne  was  furious.  "As  soon  as  the 
tournament  is  over,"  he  said,  "we  will  march 
to  Montauban  and  destroy  these  traitors  and 
their  nest." 

Guichard  had  not  gone  far,  for  he  was  too 
much  fascinated  by  the  Princess  of  Cathay. 
He  concealed  Bayard  and  re-entered  the  city 
and  was  among  the  spectators  of  the  tourna- 
ment. 

Roland  did  wonders.  He  overcame  every 
knight  until  the  Prince  of  Cathay  challenged 
him  and  then  his  very  misfortune  was  his  good 
luck.  As  he  had  no  lance  Charlemagne  de- 
cided that  the  Prince  must  meet  Roland  on 
equal  terms,  and  fight  with  the  sword.  The 


96  Feudal  Chateaux 

Prince  had  struck  down  everyone  whom  he 
touched  with  his  enchanted  lance  in  the  melee 
which  preceded  the  single  combats.  He  had 
expected  to  use  the  same  weapon,  but  he 
could  not  withdraw  from  his  challenge  or  gain- 
say the  decree  of  the  Emperor,  and  he  met 
Roland  in  a  duel  with  swords,  hoping  that  as 
his  own  was  much  the  longer  he  would  be  able 
to  keep  Roland  at  such  a  distance  that  he  could 
not  touch  him.  The  Princess,  too,  who  had 
made  herself  most  radiantly  fascinating,  sat 
directly  in  front  of  Roland,  expecting  to  dis- 
tract his  gaze.  But  Roland  had  bound  his 
lady's  favour  about  his  head,  in  lieu  of  a  hel- 
met, and  it  slipped  down  over  his  eyes.  Sar- 
cenet is  the  finest  silk  gauze,  and  he  could 
see  his  antagonist  through  it,  while  it  blinded 
him  to  the  charms  of  the  Princess.  Argalia 
brought  his  scimitar  down  upon  the  head  of 
Roland  with  both  hands,  expecting  to  cleave 
his  skull,  but  the  gauze  scarf  deflected  the 
blow  harmlessly  to  one  side,  and  at  that  in- 
stant Roland  made  a  lunge  which  buried  Cor- 
tana  in  the  heart  of  Argalia. 

When  the  Princess  saw  that  her  brother  was 
dead,  she  fled  from  the  lists  and  from  the  city. 
Guichard  ran  after  her,  and  at  the  city  gate 
offered  to  take  her  where  she  would  on  his 


Angers,  the  Mother  Castle         97 

horse  Bayard,  who  was  used  to  carrying  double 
and  even  quadruple. 

"Take  me  to  Merlin's  Stairs,"  said  the  Prin- 
cess, "  for  I  would  fain  consult  his  book  of 
enchantment,  which  is  in  the  possession  of 
Maugis,  the  Druid  wizard." 

Straight  to  the  castle  of  Angers  flew  Bay- 
ard with  Guichard  and  the  Princess.  Arrived 
at  the  stair,  Guichard  waited  with  his  bridle 
over  his  arm  while  the  Princess  mounted  to 
the  tower  to  consult  Maugis.  Guichard  was 
heated  and  thirsty,  the  sun  beat  down  upon 
him,  and  seeing  a  little  wood  near  by,  he 
fastened  his  horse  at  the  foot  of  the  tower  and 
wandered  into  the  forest  in  quest  of  water. 
He  soon  found  a  fountain  and  drank  copiously 
without  knowing  that  its  waters  had  the  magic 
power  of  making  every  man  forget  his  former 
love  and  thereafter  love  only  the  next  maiden 
whom  he  happened  to  meet.  It  so  chanced 
that  Fleur  d'Epine,  the  sister  of  Roland,  had 
from  her  window  seen  Guichard  enter  the 
wood,  had  mistaken  him  for  her  brother,  and 
had  followed  him.  As  Guichard  returned  to 
the  tower  he  met  Fleur  d'Epine,  and  his  heart 
was  for  ever  hers.  She  saw  at  once  that  he 
was  not  Roland,  but  divining  that  he  came 
from  the  court,  she  asked  news  of  her  brother, 


98  Feudal  Chateaux 

and  Guichard  told  her  of  Roland's  prowess  at 
the  tournament,  and  how  he  had  won  the 
sword  Durandal. 

"  And  the  race,"  she  asked,  "that  he  wrote 
us  of,  tell  me  of  that." 

"  Oh,  the  race  was  no  great  matter,"  Gui- 
chard replied  modestly.  "  I  chanced  to  win  it, 
but  that  was  no  credit  to  me  but  to  my  horse." 

"  He  must  be  a  noble  animal,"  said  Fleur 
d'Epine ;  "  I  should  like  to  see  him." 

"That  you  shall,"  replied  Guichard,  "and 
ride  upon  him  too,"  for  he  had  quite  forgotten 
the  Princess  of  Cathay,  and  was  very  much 
astonished  to  see  her  come  from  the  tower  at 
that  moment  and  spring  upon  Bayard's  back. 

When  the  Princess  surprised  Maugis  in 
his  study,  he  had  at  once  suspected  her  of 
some  evil  intent,  and  had  opened  his  book  of 
enchantment,  sure  of  finding  within  it  all  the 
information  in  regard  to  her  which  he  wished. 
He  read  only  far  enough  to  know  that  she 
would  exercise  a  pernicious  influence  over 
Roland,  when  the  Princess  spoke  to  him  in  so 
sweet  a  tone  that  he  looked  up  from  his  read- 
ing. Her  beauty  immediately  fascinated  him, 
and  when  she  requested  him  to  allow  her  to 
look  within  his  book  for  a  moment,  Maugis 
immediately  handed  it  to  her,  and  the  Princess 


Angers,  the  Mother  Castle         99 

read  what  she  had  come  to  ascertain, — that  the 
only  way  to  fascinate  Roland  was  to  take  from 
him  the  scarf  of  La  Belle  Aude,  with  which  he 
stopped  his  ears  and  blinded  his  eyes  to  her 
blandishments.  The  Princess  read  this  aloud, 
and  as  she  read  a  deep  sleep  fell  upon  Maugis, 
and  she  closed  the  book,  came  down  the 
stair,  and  mounted  Bayard.  As  she  did  so 
Guichard  came  up  and,  as  he  had  forgotten  that 
he  ever  loved  her,  ordered  her  very  rudely  to 
dismount.  The  Princess's  only  answer  was  to 
strike  him  across  the  face  with  her  riding-whip, 
and  to  give  rein  to  Bayard.  Guichard  clung 
to  her,  endeavouring  to  drag  her  from  the  sad- 
dle, but  not  succeeding  in  this  attempt,  was 
carried  away  by  her,  greatly  to  the  astonish- 
ment and  grief  of  Fleur  d'Epine. 

As  the  Princess  and  Guichard  tore  on  they 
were  met  by  Roland  riding  on  Brigliadoro,  the 
horse  which  he  had  won  from  Argalia,  and 
wearing  his  armour,  with  Durandal  at  his  side. 
He  was  returning  to  Angers  to  show  these 
glories  to  his  family.  The  Princess  cried  out 
as  she  passed  that  Guichard  was  carrying  her 
away,  and  Roland,  always  ready  to  heed  the 
cry  of  woman  in  distress,  turned  and  followed, 
calling  to  Guichard  to  hold.  He  could  never 
have  overtaken  Bayard  had  not  the  Princess 


ioo  Feudal  Chateaux 

reined  him  in  ;  but  as  she  did  so  he  caught  up 
easily  and  pulled  Guichard  from  the  horse. 
At  the  same  time  the  Princess  snatched  at  the 
scarf  which  fluttered  from  his  helm,  and  con- 
cealed it  in  her  bosom.  Guichard  insisted 
that  the  Princess's  charges  were  false,  but  Ro- 
land, looking  her  straight  in  the  eyes,  felt  his 
heart  fall  from  its  allegiance  and  his  senses 
waver.  Instinctively  his  hand  sought  the  pro- 
tecting scarf,  but  he  fancied  he  had  lost  it  as 
he  rode,  and  he  continued  to  gaze,  fascinated 
by  her  beauty.  The  Princess  smiled,  held  out 
her  hand,  and  rode  on,  and  Roland  followed, 
for  he  was  mad — insane  like  many  another 
good  man  for  the  love  of  an  unworthy  woman. 
Many  and  strange  adventures  were  his  while 
this  frenzy  lasted,  but  they  have  naught  to  do 
with  the  castle  of  Angers.  At  last  this  mad- 
ness passed  and  Roland  ceased  to  be  his  own 
shadow,  and  returned  to  France  to  La  Belle 
Aude,  whose  forgiveness  he  received. 

As  for  Guichard,  when  he  was  pulled  from 
his  horse  by  Roland  he  wended  his  way  to  his 
brothers'  castle  of  Montauban,  which  shortly 
after  was  besieged  by  Charlemagne.  Induced 
by  treachery  to  leave  the  castle  Guichard  was 
taken  prisoner,  and  when  Roland  arrived  he 
had  been  ordered  to  be  hung.  But  Roland 


Angers,  the  Mother  Castle        101 

protested  with  Charlemagne  against  such  in- 
justice, vowing  that  if  the  order  were  carried 
out  he  would  renounce  his  allegiance,  go  to  the 
brothers,  ask  them  to  receive  him  in  the  stead 
of  their  brother,  allow  him  to  take  the  name 
of  Guichard,  and  thenceforward  share  their 
fate. 

The  Emperor's  heart  was  softened  and  he 
ordered  that  Roland  should  have  the  care  of 
Guichard,  who  should  simply  be  kept  as  a 
hostage  for  the  loyalty  of  his  brothers.  Ro- 
land took  his  prisoner  home  to  Angers  (the 
spot  above  all  others  where  Guichard  most 
desired  to  be),  and  there  entertained  him  as  a 
guest.  Fleur  d'Epine  showed  her  brother  the 
bronze  face  which  had  fallen  from  his  armour 
at  the  time  of  his  struggle  with  Guichard  when 
the  madness  for  the  Princess  of  Cathay  came 
over  him.  It  had  been  found  and  brought  to 
the  castle,  but  Roland  had  lost  his  fancy  for  it, 
perhaps  because  it  reminded  him  of  his  frenzy, 
and  he  never  wore  it  again.  When  he  was 
summoned  to  accompany  Charlemagne  on  his 
campaign  against  the  Saracens  in  Spain,  Gui- 
chard begged  to  be  allowed  to  go  with  him, 
but  this  was  not  permitted,  and  he  remained 
at  Angers,  the  prisoner  of  love  and  of  Fleur 
d'Epine.  Angers  knew  the  brave  Roland  no 


102  Feudal  Chateaux 

more,  but  after  Roland's  death  the  Emperor 
pardoned  Guichard  and  he  married  Fleur 
d'Epine,  and  became  Lord  of  Angers  and 
Warden  of  the  Marches  of  Brittany. 

La  belle-mire  had  ended  her  story,  and 
I  asked  her  eagerly  to  tell  me  more  of  the 
strange  ornament  which  had  once  formed  a 

o 

part  of  Roland's  armour.  "It  was  a  mali- 
cious face,  tres  malin"  she  had  heard,  " with 
eyes  of  precious  gem-stones,  red  and  fiery."  I 
was  struck  by  her  words,  they  so  exactly  de- 
scribed the  curio  in  the  library  at  Chateau  La 
Joyeuse,  but  la  belle-mire  could  not  tell  what 
had  become  of  the  ornament.  It  had  been 
hidden  by  Maugis,  but  none  knew  where,  cer- 
tainly not  at  Angers. 

I  was  convinced,  however,  that  the  objects 
were  identical,  and  was  eager  to  find  the  miss- 
ing links  in  the  history. 

The  after-story  of  Roland,  heroic  and  brief, 
is  immortalised  in  the  Chanson  de  Roland, 
with  which  Taillefer,  the  minstrel  of  William 
the  Conqueror,  cheered  on  the  Normans  at  the 
battle  of  Hastings.  Eginhard,  the  authentic 
historian  of  the  period,  tells  us  only  that  in 
the  year  778,  the  rear-guard  of  Charlemagne's 
army  was  attacked  in  the  Pyrenees  :  "  There 


Angers,  the  Mother  Castle        103 

took  place  a  fight  in  which  the  French  were 
killed  to  a  man  and  Roland,  Prefect  of  the 
Marches  of  Brittany,  fell  in  this  engage- 
ment." 

There  exists  a  quaint  but  evidently  fictitious 
chronicle  which  Bishop  Turpin,  a  comrade  of 
Roland's,  is  supposed,  as  an  eye-witness,  to 
have  dictated,  when  found  dying  upon  the 
field  of  Roncesvalles.  In  the  quotation  which 
follows,  Roland's  bombastic  address  to  his 
sword  is  greatly  shortened  : 

"  Charlemagne  now  began  his  march  through  the  pass 
of  the  mountains,  giving  the  command  of  the  rear  to 
his  nephew  Roland  and  to  Oliver,  Count  of  Auvergne, 
ordering  them  to  keep  the  pass  at  Ronceval  while  he 
passed  it  with  the  rest  of  his  army.  When  he  had  safely 
passed  the  narrow  strait  with  twenty  thousand  of  his 
warriors,  with  Turpin  the  Archbishop,  while  the  rear 
kept  guard,  Marsir  and  Beligard  (Moorish  leaders),  rush- 
ing down  from  the  hills,  where  they  had  lain  two  days 
in  ambush,  smote  it  until  scarcely  one  escaped.  Some 
were  transpierced  with  lances,  some  killed  with  clubs 
or  battered  with  stones.  Only  Roland,  Baldwin,  and 
Theodoric  were  left ;  the  last  two  gained  the  woods  and 
finally  escaped." 

Here  Roland  drew  his  sword  Durandal, 
which  he  would  no  sooner  have  parted  with 
than  have  lost  his  arm,  and  addressed  it  in 
these  words  : 


104  Feudal  Chateaux 

"  *  O  sword  of  unparallelled  brightness,  admirable  tem- 
per, and  hilt  of  the  whitest  ivory  decorated  with  a 
splendid  cross  of  gold,  topped  by  a  berylline  apple 
engraved  with  the  sacred  name  of  God,  endued  with 
keenness  and  every  other  virtue,  who  now  shall  wield 
thee  in  battle,  who  shall  call  thee  master  ?  Thus  do  I 
prevent  thy  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  Saracens.'  So 
saying,  he  struck  a  block  of  marble  twice  and  cleft  it  to 
the  midst  and  broke  the  sword  in  twain. 

"  He  now  blew  a  loud  blast  with  his  horn.  This  horn 
was  endued  with  such  power  that  all  other  horns  split 
by  its  sound  ;  and  at  this  time  Roland  blew  with  such 
force  that  he  burst  the  veins  and  nerves  of  his  neck. 
Charlemagne  heard  the  sound  eight  miles  away,  but  the 
false  traitor  Ganalon  persuaded  him  that  Roland  had 
used  it  only  in  hunting. 

"  Roland  offered  his  confession,  and  then  his  soul 
winged  its  flight  from  his  body,  and  was  borne  by  angels 
to  Paradise,  where  he  reigns  with  transcendent  glory, 
united  by  his  meritorious  deeds  to  the  blessed  choir  of 
martyrs." 

Long  after  la  belle-nitre  had  finished  her 
recital  I  waited  for  the  Vicomte,  but  at  last 
it  was  my  husband  who  came  for  me.  I 
knew  at  once  that  something  had  happened. 
"What  is  it?"  I  asked,  as  we  walked  to- 
ward the  inn  together. 

"  Only  that  Rondel  arrived  just  after  you 
left." 

"  I  know  it.  Yseult  was  surely  not  dis- 
pleased ?  " 


Angers,  the  Mother  Castle        105 

"  Yseult !  perhaps  not,  but  when  the  Vi- 
comte  came  back  and  found  them  chatting 
together  there  was  a  drop  in  the  temperature 
of  the  surrounding  atmosphere.  I  distinctly 
regretted  that  I  had  left  my  overcoat  in  the 
carriage.  You  should  have  seen  the  Vicomte  ; 
he  was  magnificent.  He  is  not  so  tall  as  our 
friend  the  architect,  but  he  straightened  him- 
self until  he  fairly  towered.  '  Will  Monsieur 
have  the  kindness  to  enlighten  me  as  to  the 
business  which  gives  me  the  honour  of  this 
interview  ? ' 

"  He  might  very  easily  have  replied  that  the 
castle  of  Angers  was  free  to  any  tourist  of  an 
inquiring  mind,  but  Rondel  was  even  more 
self-controlled  than  the  Vicomte.  '  I  came, 
Monsieur,'  he  said,  'to  deliver  this  paper  into 
your  own  hands.' 

" '  I  do  not  understand,'  said  the  Vicomte 
haughtily. 

"  '  Permit  me  then  to  say  that  after  you  left 
Chateau  La  Joyeuse,  I  was  sitting  with  the 
Vicomtesse  in  the  library,  when  we  heard  a 
strange  sound  of  footsteps  just  outside  the 
door.  The  Vicomtesse  seemed  much  an- 
noyed, and  said  she  would  be  grateful  if  I 
could  ascertain  what  caused  the  sound.  I 
studied  over  the  noises  for  an  entire  day  and 


106  Feudal  Chateaux 

at  length,  while  scrutinising  the  wall  from  the 
outside,  became  convinced  that  they  were 
caused  by  ravens  tapping  their  beaks  against 
the  metal  roof  of  the  turret.  There  was  a 
small  opening  in  this  roof  and  I  judged  that 
the  birds,  which  were  wheeling  about  the 
tower,  had  nests  within.  I  had  a  ladder 
brought ;  mounted,  and  thrusting  my  arm 
inside  the  opening,  cleared  the  interior  space 
of  the  nests.  Amongst  the  rubbish  I  found 
this  document.  Its  address  was  so  peculiar 
that  I  decided  to  say  nothing  about  it  to  the 
Vicomtesse,  but  to  bring  it  to  you.' 

"  The  Vicomte  hardly  noticed  the  paper. 
'  Are  you  sure,'  he  asked,  '  that  the  explana- 
tion which  you  give  me  of  those  strange  foot- 
falls is  the  correct  one  ? ' 

" '  I  think  so,'  replied  Rondel ;  '  I  had  the 
opening  in  the  roof  closed  and  feel  confident 
that  you  will  have  no  more  annoyance  from 
that  quarter.' 

'"In  that  case,'  said  the  Vicomte,  '  I  am 
certainly  greatly  indebted  to  you.  But,'  and 
here  he  glanced  keenly  at  Yseult,  '  I  have  de- 
cided not  to  have  the  chapel  restored,  so  that 
there  will  be  no  occasion  for  you  to  make  any 
further  drawings.  Be  good  enough  to  send 
me  a  memorandum  of  my  indebtedness  to 


Angers,  the  Mother  Castle        107 

you.  If  we  have  any  further  need  of  your 
very  able  services  I  will  communicate  with 
you.' 

"  Rondel  bowed  ceremoniously,  and  turned 
with  an  appealing  look  to  Yseult,  who  was 
very  white.  '  My  father  has  explained,'  she 
said,  faintly ;  '  you  will  hear  from  us,'  and 
then,  with  a  silent  gesture  of  farewell  to  the 
young  architect,  read  aloud  the  address  upon 
the  yellowed  envelope. 

"  '  What  a  strange  inscription  ! '  she  ex- 
claimed. "  To  the  Vicomte  La  Joyeuse,  to  be 
read  by  him  when  he  returns  to  this  accursed 
house,  gloating  over  the  belief  that  he  is  not 
made  of  the  same  clay  as  ordinary  men,  and 
congratulating  himself  that  the  vengeance  of 
God  has  swept  by,  and  has  not  found  him." ' 

"'What  mad  utterance  is  this?'  the  Vi- 
comte asked,  taking  the  paper  from  Yseult's 
hands.  '  It  bears  the  very  date  of  the  burning 
of  the  chateau,  on  that  night  of  terror.  It  is 
doubtless  the  insane  threat  of  the  mob,  infuri- 
ated at  finding  that  my  ancestor  had  escaped. 
"And  until  the  day  of  retribution,"  this  cheer- 
ful paper  continues,  "may  demons  guard  this 
paper,  keeping  watch  within  his  home,  listen- 
ing at  his  door,  patrolling  his  stairs,  and  await- 
ing the  right  moment  to  pour  upon  him  the 


io8  Feudal  Chateaux 

vial  of  wrath  which  it  is  now  permitted  him  to 
unseal." 

"  '  Do  not  open  the  paper,'  Yseult  begged  ; 
'  I  am  sure  it  is  something  horrible.' 

"  '  I  shall  certainly  read  it,'  the  Vicomte  re- 
plied loftily ;  '  no  La  Joyeuse  has  ever  known 
fear.  It  is  not,  however,  necessary  to  take 
these  gentlemen  into  our  family  confidences.' 
He  drew  Yseult's  arm  within  his  own,  and, 
flourishing  the  paper  lightly,  he  led  her  away 
with  him. 

"  I  had  a  long  talk  with  Rondel  before  he 
left,  and  I  like  the  fellow.  He  is  an  Ameri- 
can as  you  know,  but  with  French  ancestry 
away  back  somewhere,  and  he  would  gladly 
settle  in  France,  for  he  is  independent  finan- 
cially, and  so  far  as  family  ties  are  concerned. 
He  loves  Yseult  with  all  his  heart,  arid  though 
he  has  not  declared  himself,  the  old  Vicomte 
evidently  understands  the  situation.  Rondel 
also  perfectly  comprehends  that  he  is  dismissed. 
'  I  have  been  living  in  a  fool's  paradise,'  he 
said  to  me.  '  I  might  have  known  that  it 
would  end  in  this  way ;  but  theoretically  there 
are  no  class  distinctions  in  France  to-day,  and 
the  Vicomte  seemed  so  friendly  and  unassum- 
ing I  had  no  idea  that  the  caste  feeling  was 
such  a  strong  instinct  with  him  ;  but  I  suppose 


Angers,  the  Mother  Castle        109 

it  is  bred  in  the  bone.  There  is  no  hope,  for 
the  Vicomte  and  Vicomtesse  will  never  change. 
It  is  not  their  fault — they  were  born  so.' " 

I  was  not  sure  that  all  was  hopeless. 
The  Vicomte  had  often  referred  with  pride  to 
his  "American  ancestor"  who  fought  for  our 
liberties,  and  in  speaking  of  rank  had  said 
(rather  sadly  it  is  true)  :  "  There  is  no  such 
thing  as  rank  left  in  France.  'La  pluie  a 
passt  Peponge  sur  les  couleurs  de  mon 
blazon' '  It  would  better  rain  more  violently, 
I  thought  viciously,  and  entirely  efface  such 
distinctions.  I  was  sure  that  Yseult  loved  the 
young  man,  and  I  determined  to  bring  what- 
ever influence  I  might  have  to  bear  upon  the 
Vicomte. 

The  opportunity  was  not  afforded  me.  The 
Vicomte  and  Yseult  dined  in  their  own  room, 
and  when  we  came  down  to  breakfast  we  found 
a  little  note  awaiting  us  written  by  Yseult  but 
dictated  by  her  father : 

"  The  Vicomte  Raouel  Aimeri  Claude  de 
La  Joyeuse  regrets  that  the  state  of  his 
health  renders  it  imperative  that  he  should  re- 
turn home  immediately.  He  has  the  honour 
to  wish  Monsieur  and  Madame  a  pleasant 
journey." 

In  a  corner,  half  blotted  by  a  tear,  Yseult 


no  Feudal  Chateaux 

had  added — "Fries  pour  mot."  It  was  like 
the  legend  added  to  the  formal  announcement 
of  a  death,  and  it  filled  me  with  irresistible 
longing  to  fold  the  dear  child  in  my  arms  and 
whisper  comfort  and  hope — but  they  had  left 
an  hour  before. 


CHAPTER  III 

A   CASTLE   OF   THE  SEA 

'T  was  springtime  in  the  bright,  warm  month  of  May 

As  I,  half  dreaming,  near  the  close  of  day, 

Heard  o'er  the  water,  while  it  rose  and  fell, 

The  soft  vibration  of  a  distant  bell ; 

And  as  I  listened,  so  it  seemed  to  me, 

The  mingled  cries  of  stifled  agony, 

And  sobbing  sounds,  like  children  when  they  weep, 

Went  upwards  from  the  bosom  of  the  deep. 

I  rose  up  wondering  what  those  sounds  might  be 

That  reached  me  thus  upon  the  lonely  sea, 

And  looking  o'er  the  boat  saw  down  below, 

In  the  clear  water  where  the  seaweeds  grow, 

What  seemed  the  ruins  of  some  temple  old, 

Whose  buttressed  towers  the  waving  plants  enfold, 

And  columns  high,  and  arches  reaching  wide, 

Spread  out  in  ordered  form  on  every  side. 

My  ancient  oarsman  now  had  ceased  to  row, 
And  pointing  to  the  wonders  down  below 
in 


ii2  Feudal  Chateaux 

Said  when  the  spring  tides  came,  in  days  gone  by, 
That  he  had  seen  a  tower  left  partly  dry. 
But  now  the  sea  had  slowly  pressed  its  way, 
Sweeping  all  things  beneath  its  cruel  sway, 
And  always  covering  now  the  highest  walls 
Of  those  strange  towers  and  desolated  halls. 
I  learnt  from  him  all  facts  that  he  could  tell, 
And  many  legends  that  he  knew  as  well, 
About  this  place  which  seemed  so  strange  to  me 
Thus  buried  'neath  the  stillness  of  the  sea. 

FRANK  LEYTON,  in  The  Bells  beneath  the  Sea. 

FROM  Angers  we  decided,  as  the  time  for 
the  Mystery  Play  was  approaching,  to  go  by 
rail  to  Ploujean,  and  from  that  point  to  make 
excursions  to  interesting  localities  in  the  west 
of  Brittany. 

It  was  not  until  the  journey  was  nearly 
made  that  my  husband  chanced  to  mention 
that  he  had  written  to  a  certain  innkeeper  of 
Ploermel,  who  he  had  ascertained  would  be  at- 
Ploujean  during  the  performance  of  the  play, 
to  meet  us  upon  our  arrival  at  the  station. 
.  "He  is  the  proprietor  of  a  jaunting-car 
which  will  be  useful  to  us  now  that  Gamin 
and  Farceur  have  wended  their  way  home- 
ward, and  I  am  assured  that  he  is  an  excellent 
guide  and  an  inexhaustible  story-teller." 

"And  what  is  the  name  of  this  useful  per- 
sonage ?  " 


A  Castle  of  the  Sea  113 

"  Anatole  le  Bavard." 

"  Then  it  was  the  Vicomte  who  recom- 
mended him — or  was  it  that  sly  Finette  at  the 
chateau  ?  " 

"  Neither ;  it  was  his  mother,  the  old  woman 
who  told  you  the  legend  of  Roland  at  Angers, 
la  belle-mkre,  Zephyre  le  Bavard." 

I  uttered  a  cry  of  disappointment.  So  la 
belle-mtre  was  Zephyre.  Impossible !  I  had 
imagined  that  romantic  name  as  belonging 
to  a  sylph-like  creature  of  fifteen,  and  la  belle- 
mkre  was  at  least  sixty  and  weighed  nearly 
three  hundred  !  To  think  that  I  had  actually 
seen  Zephyre,  had  heard  her  talk — she  who 
was  accredited  with  knowing  all  about  the 
mystery  of  the  vanished  staircase,  and  might 
even  have  enlightened  me  as  to  that  strange 
document  which  Louis  Rondel  had  discovered 
in  the  turret — and  yet  I  was  none  the  wiser ! 
Like  Roland  in  his  adventure  with  Morgan  le 
Fay,  I  had  lost  my  opportunity,  and  would 
probably  never  find  it  again. 

Then,  to  cap  my  disappointment,  I  realised 
that  as  Zephyre  had  lived  at  Chateau  La  Joy- 
euse  she  must  have  seen  the  curious  bronze 
face  in  the  library.  Would  not  this  account 
for  its  introduction  into  her  story,  and  the 
accuracy  of  her  description  ?  Was  it  not  pos- 

8 


ii4  Feudal  Chateaux 

sible  that  in  this  part  of  her  legend  she  had 
drawn  upon  her  imagination?  Had  I  really 
made  a  reliable  discovery  in  regard  to  the 
history  of  the  object  ?  Was  there  any  Mrs. 
Harris  ?  There  was  no  answer  to  my  ques- 
tionings. 

Anatole  was  waiting  at  the  station  when  we 
arrived  ;  waiting  for  us,  he  averred,  though  we 
noticed  that  as  quickly  as  possible  after  depos- 
iting us  at  the  inn  he  flew  back  to  be  in  time 
for  the  arrival  of  the  next  train.  It  could  not 
be  greed  for  business  which  made  him  lash  his 
pony  into  such  unusual  speed,  for  we  had  en- 
gaged his  services  for  a  fortnight.  We  could 
not  explain  his  general  air  of  expectancy,  his 
gala  costume,  and  the  cabbage-shaped  bouquet, 
done  up  in  white  paper,  with  which  he  had 
presented  me  on  my  arrival,  duplicated  ex- 
actly— until  we  remembered  Finette.  Then 
many  things  were  made  clear,  though  I  was 
less  certain  as  to  the  original  destination  of 
my  red  and  yellow  dahlias. 

Ploujean  is  in  Finistere,  and  Finistere  in 
the  extreme  western  portion  of  Brittany, 
swept  eternally  by  the  ocean  wind  and  lapped 
on  three  sides  by  its  waves.  All  the  dark  cliffs 
were  ablaze  with  golden  gorse,  and  illimitable 
heather-empurpled  moors  stretched  away  to 


A  Castle  of  the  Sea  115 

the  landward  horizon.  Here  and  there  were 
little  groups  of  huddled  white  huts  where  a 
river  or  an  inlet  made  a  harbour  for  the  fishing- 
boats,  but  there  were  long  stretches  of  lonely 
coast  between,  with  only  an  occasional  light- 
house to  tell  that  it  had  ever  been  discovered 
by  man,  and  the  only  signs  of  life  were  gulls 
swooping  restlessly  over  the  water  and  the 
tiny  curlews  pattering  along  the  sand. 

Ploujean  is  more  than  a  village, — it  is  an 
ancient  town  with  a  large  public  square  faced 
by  old  houses  with  slate  roofs,  and  on  one  side 
a  pretty  Gothic  church  with  picturesque  open 
belfries,  and  a  cemetery  with  grotesquely  cut 
yews.  Here  every  summer  for  many  years 
the  peasants  have  given  the  Mysfere  de  Saint 
Gwenold,  a  play  popular  in  the  sixteenth  cent- 
ury, describing  events  supposed  to  have  oc- 
curred in  prehistoric  times, — the  old  legend  of 
the  engulfment  of  the  city  of  Is,  and  the  res- 
cue of  King  Gradlon  by  St.  Gwenole.  The 
peasants  act  the  mystery  in  the  open  air ;  the 
painted  scenery  is  stretched  upon  the  ceme- 
tery wall,  and  the  audience,  filling  the  public 
square,  is  a  heterogeneous  mingling  of  nobles 
and  peasants,  artists,  tourists,  the  seaside 
pleasure-seeker,  and  the  religious  devotee. 
The  orchestra  consisted  of  a  couple  of  aged 


n6  Feudal  Chateaux 

bagpipe  players  in  the  picturesque  old  Breton 
costume,  mounted  on  some  barrels.  The  play 
was  long,  dragging  its  weary  way  through  five 
acts,  but  it  was  listened  to  with  breathless 
attention  by  the  white-coiffed  peasants,  who 
had  come  from  miles  away  to  hear  it,  and  it 
was  acted  with  great  conscientiousness  by  the 
amateur  performers.  They  were  all  men,  the 
female  parts  being  taken  by  boys.  King 
Gradlon  was  played  by  the  village  barber, 
St.  Gwenole  by  a  wine  merchant,  and  the 
other  stars  were  hostlers,  blacksmiths,  road- 
menders,  farm-labourers,  and  fishermen.  Some 
had  so  nearly  preserved  the  ancient  physical 
type  that  in  their  antique  Celtic  costumes, 
with  stuffed  dogs'  heads  as  crests  for  their 
barbaric  helmets,  they  seemed  magnificent 
statues.  Others  acted  so  naively  that  they 
were  most  amusing,  but  for  the  actors  them- 
selves it  was  no  laughing  matter.  Had  they 
not  rehearsed  laboriously  twice  a  week  for  six 
months,  scrupulously  repeating  the  same  faults 
on  the  forty-eighth  rehearsal  for  which  they 
had  been  forty-seven  times  corrected  ?  And 
were  they  not  to  receive  from  the  Mayor  the 
munificent  compensation  of  four  dollars  for 
these  labours?  Moreover,  the  legend  which 
they  acted,  if  not  actually  biblical,  was  at  least 


A  Castle  of  the  Sea  1 1 7 

taken  from  the  Lives  of  the  Saints,  and  its 
infallibility  as  history  was  not  an  open  ques- 
tion, for  many  of  them  had  seen  the  statue  of 
King  Gradlon,  mounted  on  his  white  horse, 
placed  over  the  portal  of  the  Cathedral  of 
Quimper,  in  company  with  the  helmeted  lion 
of  Montfort,  and  other  equally  sacred  and  au- 
thentic personages. 

There  was  a  still  stronger  reason  for  believ- 
ing the  story.  It  had  all  happened  right  here, 
and  though  not  in  the  memory  of  any  now 
living,  still  their  grandsires  averred  that  they 
had  seen  from  their  fishing  -  boats  on  very 
calm  days  the  roofs  of  the  city  of  Is,  with  the 
steeples  of  the  churches,  on  which  every  vane 
was  still  set  toward  the  west. 

We  too  felt  that  such  an  experience  must 
be  most  convincing,  and  if  we  could  not  actu- 
ally hear  the  tolling  of  the  bells  beneath  the 
sea,  or  see  the  submerged  city,  it  would  be 
something  to  have  the  anchor  catch  upon  a 
tower  of  Dahut's  castle,  and  bring  up  some 
token,  however  trifling,  of  its  existence.  We 
therefore  determined  to  continue  our  excur- 
sion to  the  Point  de  Raz,  the  westernmost 
extremity  of  Finistere  and  of  France,  for  be- 
yond it,  far  out  in  the  ocean,  one  sees  the 
little  Isle  de  Sein,  and  under  the  deep  water 


ii8  Feudal  Chateaux 

between,  which  shimmers  like  a  floor  of  glass 
in  calm  weather,  but  can  rage  madly  when  the 
wind  rouses  the  frothing  sea  demons,  there 
lies  the  lost  city  of  Is. 

It  was  some  time  after  the  breaking  into 
confusion  of  the  rapt  attention  and  perfect 
stillness  with  which  the  audience  had  followed 
the  play  before  we  could  find  Anatole.  Fin- 
ette  was  with  him,  as  demure  and  pretty  as 
ever,  and  by  great  good  fortune,  as  Anatole 
explained,  Finette  wished  to  make  some  visits 
on  old  friends  scattered  along  the  route 
which  we  had  proposed  to  take.  There  was 
no  one  like  Finette  for  making  sandwiches, 
and  as  there  was  plenty  of  room  for  her  on 
the  driver's  seat  by  his  side,  he  had  invited  her 
to  accompany  the  expedition.  She  could  hold 
the  horse  when  it  was  necessary,  in  acting  as 
our  guide,  for  him  to  leave  the  waggonette,  and 
could  serve  madame  in  an  hundred  ways  as 
maid.  It  was  a  rank  imposition,  but  I  was  well 
contented,  for  Finette  had  come  from  Chateau 
La  Joyeuse  and  would  return  to  it  again. 

She  had  brought  me  no  direct  word  from 
Yseult,  who  did  not  know  that  we  were  to 
meet,  but  the  maid  told  me  much  of  her  mis- 
tress's sadness  since  her  return  to  the  chateau, 
and  how  the  Vicomte  had  changed. 


A  Castle  of  the  Sea  119 

"He  has  aged  so  strangely,  Madame.  He 
has  grown  bent  and  ill-tempered  and  wicked- 
looking.  One  would  scarcely  know  him.  His 
face  is  like  that  demon-mask  that  used  to  be 
in  the  helmet  over  the  library  door." 

"  Is  it  not  there  now  ?  " 

"  No,  Madame,  and  there  is  something  very 
strange  about  that  mask.  You  see,  Madame, 
the  Vicomtesse  told  the  young  architect  who 
was  visiting  with  us  about  the  footsteps,  and 
he  had  an  idea  that  it  was  the  ravens  chattering 
and  fluttering  under  the  roof — just  as  Mon- 
sieur the  Vicomte  used  to  insist  that  it  was 
rats  in  the  wall." 

"  Perhaps,"  interrupted  Anatole,  "  it  was 
the  creaking  of  the  girouette  (weathercock)  on 
the  roof." 

"  B£te  /  just  like  a  man,  all  three  of  you,  and 
it  was  neither  the  one  nor  the  other,  nor  the 
third.  It  was  the  demons,  coming  after  that 
mask." 

"  Did  not  the  footsteps  cease  after  Monsieur 
Rondel  cleared  the  ravens'  nests  from  the 
turret  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  and  for  good  reason  ;  Monsieur 
Rondel  must  have  left  the  door  open,  and 
either  the  demons  carried  away  the  mask,  or 
the  demon-mask  joined  its  companions,  for  it 


120  Feudal  Chateaux 

has  gone,  Madame.  It  is  in  the  helmet  no 
longer,  and  no  one  will  ever  be  frightened 
again  by  its  fiery  red  eyes.  Sometimes,  how- 
ever, I  have  another  idea  about  it.  It  seems 
to  me  as  if  Monsieur  the  Vicomte  must  have 
tried  on  that  mask,  for  the  sport  of  the  thing, 
and  it  had  cemented  itself  to  his  flesh, — had 
grown  in,  Madame,  the  expression  has  become 
so  terrible.  His  eyes,  too,  are  red  and  sullen, 
and  his  moustache,  which  he  used  to  keep 
waxed  so  carefully, — it  is  no  longer  the  mous- 
tache of  a  gentleman,  but  of  an  enraged  cat. 
Something  frightful  must  have  happened  to 
him  while  he  was  travelling.  Did  Madame 
see  no  change  in  him  ?  " 

"  No,  Finette ;  the  last  time  I  saw  him  he 
was  passing  into  a  church  to  say  his  prayers, 
like  a  good  Catholic,  and  I  thought  that  for 
his  age,  I  had  never  seen  so  handsome  a  man." 

"Ah  /  fa,  he  does  not  say  his  prayers  now. 
He  has  had  the  chapel  door  boarded  up, — the 
chapel  that  mademoiselle  was  so  anxious 
should  be  restored,  and  had  Monsieur  Rondel 
down  from  Paris  to  make  estimates  upon. 
He  made  me  trundle  the  prie-Dieu  out  of  his 
bedroom,  and  broke  madame's  btnitier,  that 
was  made  of  old  Rouen  faience,  a  precious 
bijou,  and  one  that  she  had  inherited.  I  fear 


A  Castle  of  the  Sea  121 

he  is  going  insane,  and  it  is  a  dog's  life  he 
leads  mademoiselle,  who  never  leaves  him." 

"  You  shall  take  a  letter  to  Mademoiselle 
Yseult  from  me,  when  you  return,"  I  said.  "  I 
will  send  her  our  itinerary,  so  that  she  can 
write  me  all  summer,  and  I  will  write  her  fre- 
quently." 

"  Do  so,  Madame,  and  if  you  happen  to  see 
Monsieur  Rondel  in  your  travels  you  might 
suggest  to  him  that  it  would  be  well  to  enclose 
his  letters  for  mademoiselle  in  envelopes  ad- 
dressed to  me.  I  would  scorn  to  read  them, 
and  so  would  the  Vicomte  a  week  ago,  but  I 
would  not  answer  for  him  now,  for  he  pounces 
on  the  mail-bag  when  it  is  brought  in  like  a 
cat  on  a  mouse.  He  may  think  I  am  getting 
a  good  many  letters,  but  I  shall  tell  him  that 
it  is  Anatole  here  who  is  writing,  and  I  shall 
have  one  of  Anatole's  letters  always  ready  in 
case  the  Vicomte  demands  to  see  what  I  have 
received." 

"  I  will  tell  Monsieur  Rondel,  if  I  see  him, 
of  your  kind  suggestion,  but  I  doubt  if  he  will 
take  advantage  of  it." 

"  Possibly  not,  Madame,  men  are  so  stupid, 
but  it  was  only  my  duty  as  a  Christian  to  try 
to  help  him." 

Finette  was  really  a  useful  little  personage 


122  Feudal  Chateaux 

and  we  had  no  reason  to  regret  her  uninvited 
appearance.  Anatole  and  she  vied  with  each 
other  in  story-telling,  suggesting  one  legend 
after  another ;  in  turn  correcting,  improving, 
and  adding  little  flourishes  to  the  recitals, 
which  were  pleasant  to  listen  to,  but  which  I 
shall  not  attempt  to  reproduce  exactly.  It 
was  a  delightful  trip  in  spite  of  my  anxiety  for 
poor  Yseult,  and  though  we  often  wished  that 
our  friends  were  with  us,  we  gradually  gave 
ourselves  up  to  the  full  enjoyment  of  our  sur- 
roundings. 

As  we  approached  the  Point  de  Raz  driv- 
ing along  the  coast,  the  scenery  became  wilder 
and  more  sinister.  The  cliffs  were  jagged  and 
black,  and  scooped  into  caverns  where  the 
winds  and  waters  howled  and  roared.  The 
coast  of  Finistere  is  extremely  dangerous, 
and  from  its  many  shipwrecks  has  acquired 
such  ominous  nomenclature  as  the  Baie  des 
Trespasses  (bay  of  the  dying),  the  Enfer  (hell) 
of  Plogoff,  the  Golfe  des  Naufrages  (gulf  of 
the  shipwrecked),  and  the  Isles  of  the  Ghosts, 
the  Demons,  and  the  Pirates. 

The  Isle  de  Sein  was  once  the  seat  of  a 
Druid  oracle,  and  later  it  was  covered  with 
buildings  (if  we  are  to  believe  Finette's  tra- 
dition rather  than  actual  research),  for  long 


A  Castle  of  the  Sea  123 

ago  the  island  was  a  part  of  the  mainland, 
joined  to  the  Point  de  Raz  by  a  low  penin- 
sula on  which  the  city  of  Is  was  built.  So 
large  and  beautiful  it  was,  the  Bretons  boast, 
that  Paris  was  named,  in  reference  to  it,  "par 
fs"  the  equal  of  Is.  The  city  was  protected 
on  both  sides  by  sea-walls,  in  which  were 
sluice-gates,  opened  only  in  calm  weather  and 
at  low  tide  to  allow  the  sea  to  fill  a  basin  and 
to  permit  the  entrance  of  ships.  But  these 
gates  were  always  locked  when  the  tide  turned, 
for  at  its  full  the  water  outside  was  nearly  up 
to  the  top  of  the  sea-wall,  and  higher  than  the 
masts  of  the  ships  inside  the  harbour,  or  than 
the  steeples  of  the  churches  of  the  city  of  Is. 
King  Gradlon's  palace  was  in  the  water-tower 
just  over  the  gates,  whose  golden  key  he  kept, 
and  they  were  never  opened  except  by  his 
permission.  This,  at  least,  was  the  law,  but 
his  wicked  daughter,  Dahut,  sometimes  stole 
the  key  to  allow  entrance  into  the  basin  of 
boats  bringing  her  lovers  to  the  marble  land- 
ing at  the  foot  of  her  tower.  Sometimes 
these  lovers  were  young  Vikings  of  noble 
birth  whom  she  had  met  in  her  father's  court. 
Sometimes  they  were  base-born  pirates  of 
whose  terrible  deeds  she  had  heard  (for  she 
prided  herself  on  conquering  the  invincible)  ; 


124  Feudal  Chateaux 

but  high  or  low,  the  man  to  whom  she  sent 
her  galley  with  the  golden  key  was  never  so 
favoured  twice.  On  arriving  at  the  landing  a 
mask  was  placed  upon  his  face,  ostensibly  to 
conceal  his  identity,  but  a  mask  so  poisoned 
that  the  wearer  died  mysteriously  within 
twelve  hours  after  it  was  put  on. 

For  a  long  time  her  wickedness  was  not 
known,  and  even  when  it  became  notorious 
King  Gradlon  would  not  believe  it,  and  the 
harpy  went  unpunished.  At  last,  however, 
she  found  her  match.  Two  princes,  brothers, 
had  come  to  King  Gradlon's  court  on  an 
embassy  from  Norway.  They  were  both 
handsome  men  of  elegant  manners  and  superb 
dress,  befitting  their  royal  birth,  and  Dahut 
made  eyes  impartially  at  both,  inviting  the 
elder  brother  to  see  her  jongleurs  give  a  per- 
formance in  her  bower  that  evening,  and  the 
younger  to  a  banquet  on  the  night  following. 

The  first,  suspecting  nothing,  became  her 
victim,  and  died  in  the  arms  of  his  brother  on 
his  return  to  the  ship,  but  his  extraordinary 
vitality  so  resisted  the  poison  that  his  power 
of  speech  was  not  paralysed,  as  was  usually 
the  case,  and  he  babbled  incoherently  of  a 
black  mask,  and,  fancying  that  he  still  wore  it, 
tore  the  flesh  from  his  face.  As  he  staggered 


A  Castle  of  the  Sea  125 

on  board  the  ship  there  was  something  so  wild 
in  his  appearance  that  the  suspicions  of  the 
younger  brother  were  aroused  and  he  caused 
Dahut's  galley  with  its  oarsmen  to  be  de- 
tained. To  save  his  life  the  servant  who  had 
charge  of  the  golden  key  gave  it  up,  and  the 
brother,  who  now  had  the  power  of  entering 
the  city,  resolved  to  avenge  the  murder.  But 
Dahut,  who  had  repented  of  her  rashness  in 
inviting  the  younger  brother,  when  she  learned 
that  her  galley  had  not  returned  saw  that  her 
crime  was  discovered  and  determined  that  even 
with  the  aid  of  the  golden  key  the  Prince  should 
never  enter  the  gates.  She  accordingly  sent 
for  the  Druid  of  Sein,  who  had  intimate  deal- 
ings with  the  Prince  of  the  Power  of  the  Air, 
and  asked  him  to  raise  a  storm  which  would 
sink  all  the  ships  in  the  Channel.  The  white- 
bearded  magician  stood  upon  the  roof  of  her 
tower  and  pointed  his  wand  toward  the  sea. 
Immediately  every  weathercock  on  the  steeples 
and  gables  of  the  city  pointed  in  the  same 
direction,  and  the  wind  whistled  briskly  from 
the  west.  Merchants  took  in  their  wares, 
housewives  closed  their  windows,  domestic 
animals  scurried  for  shelter,  and  fishing-boats 
sought  the  harbourage  of  the  city  ;  but  the  key 
to  the  gates  could  not  be  found,  and  they  were 


126  Feudal  Chateaux 

refused  refuge  and  were  obliged  to  scud  for 
such  little  inlets  on  the  coast  as  were  available. 

Looking  through  a  powerful  glass  the  Prin- 
cess could  see  that  the  sailors  on  the  Norse 
ship  had  close-reefed  the  sails  and  were  lower- 
ing more  anchors. 

"  Stronger,  stronger ! "  she  cried  to  the  ma- 
gician, and  the  whistling  of  the  wind  rose  to  a 
shriek  and  strengthened  to  a  howl,  and  the  air 
was  full  of  flying  sand,  chimney  tiles,  and 
trees  that  had  been  uprooted  by  the  tempest, 
and  finally  the  roofs  of  houses  that  went  sailing 
inland  from  the  city  of  Is.  And  the  good  St. 
Gwenole  at  the  door  of  his  hermitage  in  the 
"  Montagnes  Noires,"  with  his  miraculous 
second  sight  saw  demons  riding  like  witches 
on  the  debris,  and  knew  that  the  powers  of 
evil  were  assaulting  the  city,  and  that  on  ac- 
count of  Dahut's  sins  all  of  his  prayers  would 
be  powerless  to  save  it.  He  girded  up  his 
robe,  and  taking  his  staff  set  out  to  warn 
King  Gradlon.  On  his  way  he  met  the  citi- 
zens flying  toward  the  mainland,  for  he  had 
uttered  an  exorcism  which  had  compelled  the 
demons  of  the  wind  against  their  will  to  set 
the  great  alarm-bell  ringing,  and  the  citizens 
had  warning  of  their  peril.  The  Saint  found 
the  King  pacing  his  palace  in  anxiety,  and 


A  Castle  of  the  Sea  127 

even  as  he  called  to  him  to  flee  a  gull  was 
blown  straight  through  the  shivered  window 
against  his  breast.  The  King  had  his  white 
horse  and  the  Princess's  hackney  brought  to 
the  postern-gate,  and  he  sent  a  messenger 
to  the  Princess  in  her  turret  to  summon  her  to 
flee  with  him  to  the  mountains. 

"  I  will  follow  in  a  moment,"  she  said  to  the 
messenger.  "  Bid  him  ride  on  and  I  will 
overtake  him."  And  the  King  rode  on,  look- 
ing back  fearfully  for  the  Princess,  and  in  the 
multitude  of  fugitives  he  fancied  he  saw  her 
following. 

"  Oh  !  my  beautiful  city,"  he  mourned ;  "  how 
can  I  bear  to  witness  thy  submersion  ! " 

"  Never  fear,"  said  St.  Gwenole ;  "  I  will 
remain  here,  and  if  the  sluice-gates  give  way 
will  bless  the  waves  so  that  they  will  be  turned 
to  holy  water  and  will  do  no  harm  to  the  city, 
which  will  rise  from  its  baptism  cleansed  from 
every  evil  thing." 

St.  Gwenole  stood  on  the  church  tower  hold- 
ing aloft  his  crucifix.  The  Druid  stood  on 
Dahut's  tower,  still  lifting  his  hazel  wand,  and 
the  Princess  stood  by  his  side,  well  satisfied 
with  her  work. 

"  The  Norse  ship  is  a  wreck  by  this  time," 
she  thought,  "  and  we  may  slacken  the  tern- 


128  Feudal  Chateaux 

pest."  But  at  that  instant  she  saw  a  small 
boat  driven  by  the  wind  approaching  the 
tower.  The  boat  contained  one  man,  who 
was  grasping  the  tiller.  He  had  been  steer- 
ing by  the  light  that  shone  from  the  Princess's 
window,  but  he  had  no  power  to  stop  the 
boat  and  the  waves  carried  him  by  the  tower. 
Dahut  recognised  him,  and  laughed  as  he 
passed,  and  clapped  her  hands  in  delirious 
joy  as  the  boat  shivered  like  an  egg-shell 
against  the  sluice-gates.  Then  she  noticed 
that  though  the  receding  wave  had  carried 
back  the  fragments  of  the  boat,  the  man, 
flung  against  the  gates,  had  clung  to  them 
and  might  clamber  down  into  the  city. 

"  Stronger,  stronger ! "  she  cried  in  a  fury, 
and  a  wave,  mountain-high,  towered  above 
gates  and  palace  ;  but  ere  it  broke  the  Norse- 
man had  found  the  lock  of  the  sluice-gate  and 
had  opened  it  with  the  golden  key,  which  hung 
from  his  girdle.  He  had  thought  only  of 
swinging  in  upon  the  gate,  and  so  of  saving 
his  life  ;  but  as  the  bolts  slipped  back  the  stu- 
pendous wave  smote  the  gates  with  all  its 
force  and  the  ocean  overwhelmed  the  town. 

It  was  a  different  version  of  this  legend 
which  the  peasants  of  Ploujean  had  acted,  but 
on  the  whole  I  preferred  Finette's,  for  it 


A  Castle  of  the  Sea  129 

seemed  to  promise  a  continuation,  in  the  ris- 
ing of  the  purified  city, — which  indeed  she 
gave  us  later  on ;  and  as  we  saw  its  towers 
pearly  through  the  shifting  mist  we  could 
almost  credit  her  assurance  that  Mont  St. 
Michel  was  this  risen  city,  purified  for  cent- 
uries by  the  cleansing  tides  of  the  sea. 

We  had  no  proof  either  that  the  submerged 
city  had  not  slipped  away  from  its  moorings, 
for  the  sea  was  stormy  and  we  could  not 
indulge  our  curiosity  by  gazing  down  into  its 
depths  from  a  fishing-boat. 

Though  disappointed  in  this  design,  the 
trip  was  full  of  interest.  This  region  is  the 
fairy-land  of  Brittany :  the  dolmens  and  men- 
hirs which  are  scattered  through  the  country 
are  thought  to  be  the  homes  of  cornicouets  and 
poulpiquets,  little  impish  people  who  freakishly 
distribute  treasure  or  misfortune  as  the  whim 
takes  them.  This  was  the  country,  too,  raided 
by  that  prince  of  brigands,  Guy  de  Fontenelle, 
who  had  his  robber  castle  on  an  island  near 
by,  and  whose  fierce  bandits  left  nothing 
which  was  not  too  hot  to  touch  or  too  heavy 
to  carry  away.  During  his  lifetime  the  coun- 
try was  afflicted  by  another  scourge  of  great 
grey  wolves,  which  became  so  hungry  and  so 
audacious  that  they  descended  from  the  mount- 


130  Feudal  Chateaux 

ains  in  the  daytime,  and  broke  into  the  homes 
of  the  peasants,  who  believed  that  they  were 
the  embodiment  of  the  souls  of  Fontenelle's 
dead  brigands. 

"  These  were  talking  wolves" — Anatole  was 
sure  of  that.  "  Had  Madame  never  heard  of 
le  petit  Chaperon  Rouge  (Little  Red  Riding 
Hood)  ?  Well,  there  were  others ;  garrulous 
wolves  who  made  themselves  very  agreeable 
by  telling  stories ;  Madame,  who  is  so  inter- 
ested in  hearing  tales,  should  be  especially  on 
her  guard.  A  five-leaved  clover  is  an  excel- 
lent protection  against  all  evil  animals,  and 
there  are  many.  Bats  are  especially  malign ; 
has  Madame  never  been  told  the  origin  of  those 
uncanny  creatures,  half  bird,  half  beast,  and 
wholly  demonic  ?  Best  of  all,  there  is  the  legend 
of  the  Walking  Stones.  It  is  so  indisputably 
true  that  it  has  been  printed  in  a  book." 

I  remembered  the  tales  vaguely  as  told  by 
Emile  Souvestre,  who,  born  in  this  part  of 
Brittany,  made  himself  its  Hans  Andersen  by 
collecting  its  fairy  stories,  but  I  was  glad  to 
hear  them  again,  for  they  are  as  truly  a  pro- 
duct of  the  Breton  soil  as  its  flowering  gorse 
and  heather,  and  in  their  perennial  upspring- 
ing  they  have  lost  nothing,  but  rather  have 
gained  in  extent  and  in  colour. 


A  Castle  of  the  Sea  131 

Returning  from  our  western  explorations 
we  followed  the  northern  coast,  which  gives  its 
name  to  the  next  department,  Cotes  du  Nord. 
Near  Lannion  we  found  ourselves  among  the 
great  dolmens,  huge  boulders  of  rose-coloured 
granite  of  curious  shape  ;  some  of  them  were 
balanced  so  nicely  that  a  child's  hand  could 
rock  them  ;  others  were  buried  in  the  heather, 
like  kneeling  prehistoric  monsters,  pasturing 
peaceably  in  great  flocks,  and  ready  at  the 
least  alarm  to  rush  down  into  the  sea,  where 
others  of  their  kind  were  disporting  among 
the  breakers.  Something  of  this  fancy  I  ex- 
pressed to  Finette,  and  she  replied  very  seri- 
ously that  it  was  only  once  in  an  hundred 
years,  and  on  the  eve  of  St.  Sylvester,  that 
the  dolmens  left  their  places  and  tumbled 
down  to  the  beach  to  drink  the  salt  water. 

I  had  spoken  to  Finette  that  morning  of 
the  bronze  mask,  wondering  if  it  might  have 
been  the  same  one  which  Dahut  used  to  dis- 
guise her  lovers. 

"  We  will  never  know  its  entire  history," 
she  replied,  "  until  we  ask  Anatole's  mother." 

"  But  I  did  find  her  at  Angers,"  I  answered. 

"  Did  Zephyre  say  that  she  knew  nothing 
about  it?"  Finette  asked. 

"  No ;  she  gave  me  some  very  interesting 


132  Feudal  Chateaux 

information,  but  apparently  does  not  know 
all  its  story.  She  said  it  once  belonged  to 
Roland.  I  should  like  to  know  its  history 
between  his  time  and  the  present." 

"  But  my  mother  certainly  could  have  told 
you,"  said  Anatole,  "  that  Maugis  hid  the  face 
after  the  death  of  Roland,  and  wove  a  spell 
that  it  might  remain  hidden  until  the  coming 
of  another  and  as  great  a  hero." 

"  Yes,  your  mother  said  that  Maugis  hid  it, 
but  where  ?  " 

"  But  where  ?  why  here." 

"  You  surely  do  not  mean  this  very  spot  ?" 

"  It  may  have  been.  It  is  a  tradition  at 
Angers  that  Maugis  on  a  certain  St.  Sylves- 
ter's night,  of  which  I  was  telling  you,  took  the 
piece  of  armour  to  such  a  field  of  dolmens  as 
this,  and  when  they  had  all  rushed  down  to 
the  ocean  for  their  once-a-century  drink,  he 
placed  it  in  the  bed  of  one  of  the  largest, 
where  there  was  no  chance  of  its  being  dis- 
covered for  another  hundred  years.  They 
told  me  at  the  Point  de  Raz  that  it  was  Maugis 
who  used  to  live  in  the  Druids'  Tower  on  the 
Isle  de  Sein,  and  who  raised  the  great  tem- 
pest which  destroyed  the  city  of  Is.  If  so, 
he  went  down  with  the  wicked  Dahut,  so  that 
was  the  last  of  him." 


A  Castle  of  the  Sea  133 

"  Not  at  all,"  Finette  contradicted  cheer- 
fully. "  The  city  rose  again,  you  know,  three 
hundred  years  later.  So  there  was  Maugis 
free  again." 

"What  idiocy!"  Anatole  replied  politely, 
"when  everybody  knows  that  in  that  time 
it  was  cleansed  from  everything  wicked  ;  and 
when  St.  Gwenole  anchored  it  off  Pont 
Orson  and  changed  its  name  to  Mont  St. 
Michel,  he  intended  that  no  magicians  or 
women  should  cross  the  sill  of  its  castle, 
and  so  it  became  a  great  abbey-fortress,  the 
most  famous  in  all  the  land.  The  demons 
did  their  best.  They  surrounded  it  with  sables 
mouvants  (quicksands),  and  at  every  return  of 
the  tides  they  strove  to  overwhelm  it,  but 
St.  Gwenole  bought  them  off  by  promising 
them  one  victim  a  year,  and  with  that  the 
ocean  was  satisfied.  Even  Rollo,  the  great 
Norse  pirate,  who  swore  that  to  avenge  the 
death  of  his  countrymen  that  were  killed  by 
Dahut  he  would  destroy  every  city  of  France, 
even  he,  after  he  had  visited  Mont  St.  Michel 
and  saw  what  a  holy  community  it  was,  spared 
it,  and  he  protected  it  after  the  King  of  France 
gave  him  Normandy,  though  he  knew  that  it 
was  the  city  where  one  of  his  princes  had  been 
poisoned  and  the  other  drowned." 


134  Feudal  Chateaux 

Finette's  nose  was  in  air  in  derision. 
"  Much  Rollo  cared  for  the  holiness  of  the 
monks ! "  she  said.  "  It  was  the  magic  of 
Gisele's  pretty  blue  eyes  that  did  that  busi- 
ness, or  the  towers  of  St.  Michel  would  have 
been  tumbled  into  the  water  from  whence 
they  rose." 

"  How  was  that  ?  "  I  asked.  "  And  who  was 
this  Gisele?" 

"  It  is  a  matter  of  history,  Madame,"  Anatole 
replied.  "  Rollo  came  sailing  along  with  his 
Norse  pirates,  and  he  saw  the  island  castle  of 
St.  Michel,  and  as  a  soothsayer  who  had  come 
with  him  assured  him  that  this  was  the  city  of 
Is,  he  determined  to  sack  and  destroy  it.  But 
the  Abbot  rowed  out  to  his  ship,  and  told  him 
what  a  poor  community  they  were,  with  nothing 
to  steal,  and  how  holy  and  kind  to  the  poor 
they  had  been  since  all  the  wicked  women 
were  drowned.  Rollo  was  only  half  convinced, 
but  he  went  back  on  the  Abbot's  safeguard, 
with  his  men  waiting  just  outside  the  gate, 
ready  to  press  in  if  there  were  treachery ;  and 
the  Abbot  showed  him  over  the  fortress. 
What  impressed  Rollo  most  was  not  the 
sanctity  or  poverty  of  the  monks,  but  the 
strength  of  the  place.  He  saw  how  a  small 
number  could  easily  defend  it,  and  he  noted 


A  Castle  of  the  Sea  135 

that  the  monks  were  sturdy  fellows,  and  that 
weapons  as  well  as  crucifixes  hung  in  their 
halls.  He  reckoned  that  he  might  have  hard 
work  to  take  the  castle,  so  he  resorted  to 
diplomacy.  He  promised  to  take  it  under  his 
protection,  and  offered  to  leave  some  of  his 
men  to  garrison  the  fortifications,  if  the  Abbot 
would  afford  him  refuge  here  on  his  return 
from  his  expedition,  and  would  give  him  infor- 
mation of  wealthier  abbeys  or  castles  that  he 
could  pillage. 

"  On  his  promise  of  protection  the  Abbot 
agreed  to  tell  him  a  great  secret  whereby  he 
could  secure  much  treasure.  Rollo  gave  his 
word,  and  the  Abbot  told  him  that  on  the 
next  St.  Sylvester's  night,  which  was  near  at 
hand,  the  stones  would  make  their  centennial 
pilgrimage,  and  that  while  they  were  drinking, 
all  the  treasures  of  the  elves,  of  whom  they 
were  the  bankers,  would  be  open  to  the  eye 
of  heaven  and  might  be  carried  away.  The 
pirate  fleet  therefore  anchored  off  Tregastel, 
and  it  may  have  been  to  this  very  flock  of 
stones  that  Rollo  led  his  men.  They  were 
careful  not  to  stand  between  them  and  the  sea, 
but  a  little  to  one  side  ;  for  if  they  had  been  in 
their  path  they  would  have  been  crushed  to  a 
pulp  in  the  wild  stampede  of  the  boulders.  As 


136  Feudal  Chateaux 

soon  as  the  dolmens  were  well  out  of  the  way 
each  Norseman  rushed  to  a  different  hollow 
which  one  of  the  giant  stones  had  made  its 
lair,  and  found  that  the  Abbot  had  not  de- 
ceived them.  Jewels  and  golden  objects  and 
all  manner  of  riches  were  exposed  to  view. 
Rollo  was  enchanted.  '  They  say  that  "  a  roll- 
ing stone  gathers  no  moss," '  he  cried.  '  These 
rolling  stones  should  have  remembered  that 
adage  and  should  have  kept  better  guard 
over  their  property.' 

"  The  pirates  began  to  gather  up  their  booty, 
but  greed  made  them  forget  that  the  boulders 
would  soon  come  home  again.  Up  the  beach 
they  tumbled,  as  intoxicated  as  though  they 
had  been  spending  the  evening  at  the  cabaret. 
They  turned  somersaults  and  played  leap-frog 
as  gaily  as  though  their  weight  were  pounds 
instead  of  tons.  They  bounded  into  the  air 
and  shouldered  each  other,  and  wrestled  and 
pushed  like  frolicsome  schoolboys  released 
from  their  tasks.  There  would  have  been  no 
escape  for  the  poor  Norsemen,  for  they  were 
completely  shut  in  by  this  terrific  herd,  had 
not  a  very  remarkable  thing  happened. 

"  The  Abbot  had  led  Rollo  to  suppose  that 
there  were  no  women  on  the  Mont  of  St. 
Michel.  It  was  a  pious  fraud  for  the  sake  of 


A  Castle  of  the  Sea  137 

saving  the  poor  creatures  from  the  pirates ; 
but  in  fact  there  existed  on  the  island  and 
within  the  walls  of  the  castle  a  convent  of  holy 
nuns,  who  were  conducting  the  education  of 
certain  noble  maidens.  Among  these  was  the 
Princess  Gisele,  daughter  of  the  brother  of 
King  Eudes.  This  young  person  was  en- 
dowed with  all  the  innocent  mischief  of  ten 
ordinary  girls,  and  with  curiosity  unbelievable. 
She  had  seen  the  entrance  of  Rollo  into  the 
castle,  and  she  had  stolen  into  the  Abbot's 
apartments  and  concealed  herself  behind  the 
arras,  and  had  heard  the  story  of  the  walking 
stones,  with  the  explicit  directions  of  how  to 
reach  them.  This  she  reported  to  the  other 
pupils,  who  were  immediately  fired  to  see — I 
say  not  the  Norsemen,  but  the  miracle  of  the 
pilgrimage  of  the  dolmens.  Accordingly,  when 
Gisele  added  what  the  Abbot  had  neglected 
(perhaps  from  treachery)  to  inform  Rollo,  that 
it  would  not  be  safe  to  attempt  this  expedition 
unless  each  man  wore  a  five-leaved  clover  in 
his  helmet,  it  seemed  to  the  maidens  that 
it  was  their  duty  to  rescue  these  interesting 
strangers.  That  night  both  the  moon  and  the 
tides  were  at  their  full,  and  after  the  nuns 
had  bidden  good-night  to  their  charges,  the 
maidens  slipped  from  their  cells,  and,  suborn- 


138  Feudal  Chateaux 

ing  the  guardians,  rowed  away  in  the  Abbot's 
galley,  following  the  wake  of  the  Norse  fleet. 
They  fastened  the  galley  at  a  little  distance 
from  the  ships  and  trooped  across  the  moonlit 
moors,  arriving  on  the  scene  just  as  the  dol- 
mens came  hurtling  back  from  their  dip  in  the 
sea. 

"  The  maidens,  with  Gisele  at  their  head, 
holding  aloft  the  magic  five-leaved  clovers, 
bravely  stepped  between  the  tumultuous  horde 
and  their  victims,  and  with  a  hoarse  roar  of 
baffled  rage  and  fear  the  stony  monsters  fled 
back  like  a  covey  of  frightened  partridges. 
Rollo,  who,  though  a  barbarian  by  birth,  had 
some  traits  of  gentleness  in  his  nature,  threw 
himself  upon  his  knees  before  the  Princess, 
thanking  her  for  his  preservation,  and  swore 
that  his  men  should  do  her  and  her  maidens 
no  harm.  They  even  escorted  the  galley  back 
to  Mont  St.  Michel,  which  they  promised  to 
protect  in  spite  of  the  doubtful  behaviour  of 
the  Abbot,  and  they  shared  with  the  maidens 
the  treasures  which  they  had  found. 

"  The  most  curious  part  of  this  story  is  the 
circumstance  that  Rollo  had  discovered  the 
piece  of  armour  which  Maugis  had  hidden. 
It  was  the  only  object  in  that  particular  pit, 
and  he  gave  it  to  Gisele,  saying  that  though 


A  Castle  of  the  Sea  139 

the  metal  in  which  they  were  set  might  be  of 
no  use  to  her,  yet  the  carbuncle  eyes  would 
make  her  some  pretty  trinket. 

"You  may  be  sure  that  this  was  not  the  end 
of  the  affair.  Gisele  wore  the  grotesque  face 
as  a  clasp  for  her  girdle,  and  there  must  have 
been  some  charm  in  its  fiery  eyes,  for  Rollo 
could  not  forget  the  maid.  He  was  victorious 
everywhere,  and  at  last  he  held  Paris  at  his 
mercy.  The  King  sent  out  his  uncle,  Duke 
Robert,  to  treat  with  him,  and  offered  him  all 
of  Neustria  if  he  and  his  warriors  would  settle 
there,  become  baptised,  and  acknowledge  the 
King  of  France  as  their  sovereign.  Duke 
Robert  was  the  father  of  Gisele,  and  when 
Rollo  heard  this  he  accepted  the  proposition 
provided  that  Neustria  was  the  dowry  of  the 
Princess  Gisele.  So  Neustria  became  Nor- 
mandy, the  land  of  the  Normans,  and  all  of 
Gisele's  schoolmates  were  married  to  Viking 
chieftains,  and  peace  was  ushered  in  by  wed- 
ding bells — the  first  Chimes  of  Normandy. 
To  this  day  maidens  go  out  with  five-leaved 
clovers  on  St.  Sylvester's  night,  and  on  the 
Vigil  of  All  Saints ;  but  though  they  still  find 
husbands,  the  dolmens  are  more  cautious  or  less 
thirsty,  and  I  have  never  known  anyone  who 
was  able  to  trick  them  out  of  their  treasures." 


140  Feudal  Chateaux 

MONT  ST.  MICHEL 

"  Dans  les  sables  mouvants  sur  formidable  roc, 
Au  peril  de  la  Mer  est  Saint  Michel  de  France." 

Finette  had  returned  to  Chateau  La  Joy- 
euse,  and  after  she  left  us  we  almost  hesitated 
to  see  the  real  fortress  of  these  wonder  stories 
for  fear  that  the  glamour  would  depart.  But 
the  Mont  is  more  wonderful  than  any  fairy  tale 
that  could  be  fabricated  about  it.  A  part  of 
the  great  pile  is  called  the  Marvel,  for  it  was 
almost  a  miraculous  feat  to  build  a  castle  in  so 
inaccessible  a  spot.  It  is  a  marvel  of  beauty, 
too,  and  of  strength,  in  its  union  of  the  grand 
Norman  pillars  and  arches  in  the  foundation 
portions  with  the  exquisite  Gothic  of  the  thir- 
teenth century,  where  the  building  shoots  up 
and  blossoms  like  a  flower  in  all  the  radiance 
of  sunshine  flashing  through  jewelled  glass 
windows. 

Au  peril  de  la  Mer  it  is  called,  for  around 
it  the  tides  ebb  and  flow  ceaselessly,  jealously 
guarding  it  with  their  waves.  In  the  change 
of  watch  the  waves  leave  in  their  place  still 
more  cruel  warders,  the  grey  quicksands,  which 
seem  to  give  easy  access,  but  trap  the  unwary 
and  drag  them  down  to  suffocation,  or  hold 
their  victims  relentlessly  until  the  mad  waves 
rush  back  and  overwhelm  them. 


A  Castle  of  the  Sea  141 

In  the  white  mists  that  drift  across  these 
quicksands  the  peasants  fancy  that  they  see 
the  wraith  of  "  the  White-veiled  Fairy  of  the 
Sands,"  who  stole  every  night  across  the 
treacherous  pavement  to  carry  food  to  her 
lover,  the  knight  Aubrey,  imprisoned  in  one 
of  the  dungeons.  She  was  caught  at  last  by 
the  relentless  tides,  and  her  ghost  was  soon 
joined  by  that  of  her  lover,  who  starved  to 
death  without  her  ministrations. 

A  long  causeway  now  leads  from  Pont  Orson 
across  the  sands  to  the  base  of  the  Mont, 
where  the  village  nestles  within  its  encircling 
fortifications.  An  interesting  old  town  in 
itself,  with  a  famous  inn  for  pilgrims,  and  an 
old  parish  church  hung  with  the  banners  and 
votive  offerings  of  knights  who  came  from  far 
and  near  to  this  popular  shrine.  Near  the 
church  is  a  museum  containing,  among  other 
curios,  some  huge  old  volumes  said  to  have 
belonged  to  Du  Guesclin.  A  steep  lane 
winds  upward  to  an  archway  which  opens 
into  the  Salle  des  Gardes,  a  strange  hall 
built  on  different  levels.  Beyond  the  guard- 
chamber  the  path  still  climbs  upward  between 
the  bishop's  palace  and  the  church,  below 
bridges  built  across  for  the  priests  to  pass  over, 
until  one  enters  the  abbey  church,  with  its  se- 


142  Feudal  Chateaux 

vere  Norman  nave  and  Gothic  choir.  Under 
the  church  is  the  solemn  crypt,  with  its  huge 
pillars,  and  still  beneath  are  the  grewsome 
dungeons,  with  an  iron  cage  in  which  a  court- 
ier who  had  displeased  Louis  XV.  was  de- 
voured alive  by  rats.  Far  up  on  the  rock  is  a 
beautiful  cloistered  court,  one  of  the  loveliest 
bits  of  that  exuberant  Gothic  which  flowered 
into  all  manner  of  curling  foliage  and  playful 
dwarfs  and  chimerical  animals.  A  greater 
contrast  to  the  subterranean  prisons  could  not 
be  imagined.  Beneath  the  cloisters  is  the 
very  noble  hall  of  the  knights,  with  three  high 
vaulted  aisles  like  those  of  a  cathedral.  In 
this  h'all  Louis  XI.  founded  his  order  of  the 
Chevaliers  de  Mont  St.  Michel,  whose  decora- 
tion consisted  of  a  necklace  or  collar  of  linked 
scallop  shells  (the  emblem  of  pilgrimage), 
from  which  depended  a  medallion  of  St. 
Michel  killing  a  dragon.  This  grand  apart- 
ment gives  one  an  idea  of  the  strength  of 
the  different  institutions  of  knighthood, — the 
Templars,  the  Hospitallers,  and  other  mil- 
itant orders, — for  nowhere  else  does  there  exist 
so  fine  a  specimen  of  the  fortress  monastery. 
The  great  dormitory  where  the  monks  slept 
in  beds  ranged  in  company,  instead  of  seques- 
tered in  cells,  is  empty  now.  So  is  the  refec- 


A  Castle  of  the  Sea  143 

tory,  whose  tables  groaned  with  dainties ;  and 
the  cellars  where  formerly  stood  the  great 
butts  of  wine— 

"  a  brotherhood 

Dwelling  for  ever  under  ground, 
Silent,  contemplative,  round,  and  sound. 

With  beards  of  cobwebs,  long  and  hoar, 
Trailing  and  sweeping  across  the  floor." 

But  in  the  glamour  of  the  moonlight  the  in- 
destructible halls  are  peopled  again,  and  we 
hear  the  warrior-monks  revelling  in  the  refec- 
tory, and  see  them  seize  their  battle-axes  and 
formidable  maces  with  the  swinging  chain  and 
ball  when  one  among  them  tells  how  he  has 
feigned  to  betray  the  fortress  to  Montgomery, 
the  Protestant  leader ;  and  that  his  men  are 
to  be  drawn  up  one  by  one  by  the  windlass 
into  the  great  guardroom.  Eighty  are  ad- 
mitted in  this  way,  and  slain  as  quickly  as 
they  are  helped  through  the  window,  before 
Montgomery,  chafing  below  at  the  slow  ad- 
mission, suspects  the  truth, — that  the  traitor 
who  promised  to  aid  him  is  doubly  a  traitor, — 
and  flees  with  the  remnant  of  his  force. 

From  the  time  that  Rollo  fortified  it,  Mars 
has  shared  with  the  Prince  of  Peace  the 
sovereignty  of  the  Mont.  The  English  at- 


144  Feudal  Chateaux 

tempted  in  vain  to  take  this  outpost  of  France, 
and  though  empty  and  dismantled,  it  still  re- 
mains one  of  the  most  wonderful  and  interest- 
ing of  the  castles  of  France. 

Most  beautiful  of  all  is  the  church  upon  the 
very  summit.  It  was  evening  when  we  stood 
here,  and  Sir  Walter  Scott's  lines  describing 
another  abbey  might  well  have  been  written 
of  this  enchanting  spot : 

"  We  entered  now  the  chancel  tall. 
The  darkened  roof  rose  high  aloof, 
On  pillars  lofty  and  light  and  small ; 
The  keystone,  that  locked  each  ribbed  aisle, 
Was  a  fleur-de-lys  or  a  quatre-feuille  ; 
The  corbels  were  carved  grotesque  and  grim  ; 
And  the  pillars  with  clustered  shafts  so  trim, 
With  base  and  with  capital  flourished  around, 
Seemed  bundles  of  lances  which  garlands  had  bound. 
The  silver  light,  so  pale  and  faint, 
Showed  many  a  prophet,  and  many  a  saint, 
Whose  image  on  the  glass  was  dyed  ; 
Full  in  the  midst,  his  cross  of  red 
Triumphant  Michael  brandished, 
And  trampled  the  apostate's  pride. 
The  moonbeam  kissed  the  holy  pane 
And  threw  on  the  pavement  a  bloody  stain." 

An  intelligent  priest,  who  was  shown  over 
the  buildings  with  us,  gave  us  much  entertain- 
ing information.  He  described  so  vividly  the 
ceremony  of  initiating  a  young  man  into  the 


A  Castle  of  the  Sea  145 

order  of  knighthood  that  we  seemed  to  see 
the  candidate  at  his  vigil,  watching  his  arms 
before  the  altar.  Several  of  the  legends  of 
The  Table  Round  are  laid  at  Mont  St.  Michel. 
King  Arthur  is  supposed  to  have  killed  a  can- 
nibal giant  who  had  his  lair  where  the  church 
now  stands,  and  a  chapel  on  this  site  was  the 
pilgrimage  shrine  where  his  knights  received 
benediction  before  marching  away  on  their 
quest  of  the  Holy  Grail. 

If  the  dubbing  of  a  knight  was  impressive, 
the  degradation  of  one  who  had  proved  re- 
creant was,  as  our  new  acquaintance  explained 
it,  almost  heartrending. 

The  culprit  was  first  tried  before  the  officers 
of  his  order  in  some  great  hall,  like  the  Salle 
des  Chevaliers,  and  having  been  found  guilty 
and  had  sentence  pronounced  upon  him,  his 
brother  knights  and  the  public  at  large  were 
summoned  to  witness  his  disgrace. 

"  I  have  often  figured  to  myself,"  he  said, 
"that  ceremony  of  dishonour  in  the  case  of 
Oliver  Talvas  de  Bellesmes  of  Alengon,  who 
was  convicted  of  an  attempt  to  assassinate 
William  the  Conqueror.  The  Talvas  were 
the  possessors  of  immense  border  estates  be- 
tween Normandy  and  Anjou.  They  held  that 
they  possessed  a  better  right  to  govern  Brit- 


146  Feudal  Chateaux 

tany  than  William,  and  a  deadly  enmity  existed 
between  their  families,  and  the  Talvas  de  Bel- 
lesmes  were  noted  for  many  black  deeds  of 
cruelty.  There  are  oubliettes  in  the  dungeons 
of  Alengon  where  human  bones  have  been 
found  crumbling  in  corroded  fetters,  and  in- 
struments of  torture  in  other  chambers  whose 
function  makes  one's  blood  curdle.  Old  Wil- 
liam Talvas  de  Bellesmes,  the  father  of  Oli- 
ver, was  noted  for  his  wickedness,  and  so 
was  Mabel,  or  Aimable,  the  daughter  of  Wil- 
liam Talvas.  Mabel  was  skilled  in  the  use  of 
poisons,  and  had  a  turret  fitted  as  a  chemical 
laboratory  where  she  concocted  them.  She 
was  lovely  in  appearance,  and  was  married 
to  Roger  de  Montgomery,  a  very  honour- 
able gentleman  and  the  dearest  friend  of  her 
brother  Oliver. 

"  Under  his  safeguard  William  the  Con- 
queror, when  a  boy,  visited  at  the  castle  of 
Alengon,  and  another  lad  of  about  his  age  was 
invited  to  bear  him  company.  The  night 
before  he  was  to  leave,  this  poor  child  was 
stabbed  in  his  bed,  and  when  inquisition  was 
made  by  Roger  de  Montgomery,  the  crime 
was  found  to  lie  between  his  wife  Mabel  and 
Oliver,  who  confessed  that  he  killed  the  lad, 
thinking  to  have  stabbed  the  young  Duke  of 


A  Castle  of  the  Sea  14? 

Normandy.  As  he  had  confessed  to  the  deed, 
and  there  was  an  inherited  feud,  he  was  not 
executed ;  but  he  was  publicly  expelled  from 
the  order  of  chivalry.  The  cook  of  the  castle, 
whose  duty  it  had  been  to  fasten  on  his  gilded 
spurs,  now  hewed  them  from  his  heels  with  a 
butcher's  cleaver.  A  scaffold  was  erected  in 
the  great  council-chamber  of  the  knights,  and 
on  it  his  armour  was  broken  by  the  axe  of  the 
executioner ;  the  blazon  was  effaced  from  his 
shield  and  it  was  dragged  in  the  mud  by  crim- 
inals. Then  the  imprecation  against  traitors 
was  read  by  a  herald,  and  the  Grand  Master 
emptied  a  basin  of  water  on  his  head,  in  token 
that  the  oil  of  his  anointing  was  washed  from 
his  forehead.  He  was  next  stripped,  robed  in 
a  shroud,  and  laid  upon  a  bier  with  his  broken 
arms,  and  carried  by  the  monks  into  the 
church,  where  the  burial-service  was  read  over 
him.  From  the  church  he  was  taken  to  the 
family  tomb,  where  his  armour  was  buried, 
and  he  was  turned  loose  to  wander  for  the 
rest  of  his  life  as  his  own  ghost,  proscribed 
and  disclaimed  by  relatives  and  friends." 

"A  terrible  punishment,  but  not  too 
grievous  for  so  frightful  a  crime,"  was  our 
comment. 

"  No,"  replied  the  priest,   "  if  it  had  fallen 


148  Feudal  Chateaux 

on  the  real  evil-doer.  But  when  Mabel  Mont- 
gomery came  to  die,  she  confessed  that  she 
had  stabbed  the  boy  with  her  own  hand,  and 
that  her  brother,  though  guiltless  of  any  com- 
plicity in  the  act,  had  confessed  to  it  to  save 
her  from  punishment  and  his  friend  Hugh 
Montgomery  from  the  shame  of  knowing  that 
his  wife  was  a  murderess." 

"  And  Oliver  was  reinstated  ?  "  we  asked. 

"  It  was  too  late,"  replied  the  priest ;  "  he 
had  probably  died  an  outcast,  for  he  could  not 
be  found." 

Mont  St.  Michel  stands  just  at  the  meeting 
of  Brittany  and  Normandy.  As  we  follow 
the  trend  of  the  coast  by  sea  we  thread  the 
Channel  Islands,  which  have  belonged  to  Eng- 
land since  the  days  of  William  the  Conqueror. 
Scattered  among  the  Jerseys  and  Guernseys 
are  other  picturesque  castles  of  the  sea,  such 
as  Castle  Cornet,  brave  and  strong,  and  Mont 
Orgueil,  grand  and  venerable.  William 
Prynne,  imprisoned  in  the  latter  fortress  for 
three  years,  wrote  here  his  Divine  and 
Profitable  Meditations,  Raised  from  the  Con- 
templation of  these  Three  Leaves  of  Nature  s 
Volume : — /.  Rocks.  2.  Seas.  3.  Gardens. 
The  dedication  of  his  book  to  the  daughter  of 
Sir  Philip  Carteret  (the  governor  of  the  cas- 


A  Castle  of  the  Sea  149 

tie),  "  Sweet  Mistress,  once  fair  Margaret," 
suggests  that  his  contemplation  included  still 
another  leaf  from  Nature's  volume. 

We  might  have  rounded  the  Manche  and 
entered  Normandy  by  one  of  its  water-gates, 
but  we  chose  to  drive  across  the  pleasant 
country,  by  William  the  Conqueror's  great 
castle  at  Falaise,  to  his  abbey  city  of  Caen. 
Here  I  expected  to  hear  from  Yseult,  and  I 
was  not  disappointed.  There  was  a  provok- 
ingly  brief  note  waiting  for  me  at  the  post- 
office  which  said  nothing  of  herself. 

"  When  you  are  in  Caen,"  she  wrote,  "  in- 
quire at  the  Abbey  of  Holy  Trinity,  which 
Queen  Matilda  founded,  for  Sceur  Euphrasie. 
I  have  written  her,  asking  her  to  copy  for  you 
a  manuscript  which  I  saw  in  the  abbey  library 
when  I  visited  it  several  years  since.  I  think 
it  may  interest  you,  as  it  bears  some  relation 
to  the  old  Norman  castles." 

I  found  Sister  Euphrasie  a  smiling,  rosy- 
faced  nun,  who  handed  me  a  packet  through 
the  grating.  Yseult  and  she  had  been  school- 
mates, she  said,  and  she  longed  to  see  her 
again.  It  was  very  sweet  and  peaceful  at  the 
abbey,  and  if  Yseult  was  not  happy, — someway 
her  last  letter  had  not  sounded  so, — she  hoped 
I  would  beg  her  to  come  and  find  a  refuge 


150  Feudal  Chateaux 

here.  The  nuns  were  not  triste ;  it  was  pleas- 
ant to  care  for  the  poor  old  beneficiaries  of 
the  abbey,  and  then  they  had  such  beautiful 
music, — I  must  sit  a  while  in  the  church  and 
listen  to  the  vesper  service.  I  sat  and  listened 
to  the  organ  and  the  sweet  chanting  of  the 
Stabat  Mater,  and  I  prayed  for  Yseult,  but  I 
prayed  that  she  might  never  need  this  refuge. 
Then  I  wandered  through  the  quaint  old  city 
to  the  little  tower  called  the  House  of  the 
Guardsmen,  with  the  carved  stone  warders 
leaning  over  the  parapets  and  watching  for 
the  coming  of  any  foe,  and  seated  under  the 
trees  across  the  way  I  read  the  story  of 
Turold,  Duke  William's  fool 


CHAPTER   IV 
A   FOOL'S   ERRANDS 

(Being  the  chronicles  of  the  castles  of  Falaise  and  of  Caen 
during  the  reign  of  Duke  William  of  Normandy,  found  among  the 
private  papers  of  Cicely,  Abbess  of  Holy  Trinity.) 

I  AM  Turold,  sometime  "the  Little  Mon- 
key," Duke  William's  dwarf,  jester,  fool — 
what  you  will,  held  in  equal  consideration 
with  his  horse,  his  dog,  and  his  falcon  as  a 
useful  thrall,  and  kindly  handled  as  were  all 
his  creatures. 

I  loved  my  master  with  all  the  dumb  pas- 
sion of  my  heart.  I  think  he  knew  I  had  a 
heart,  but  never  a  soul  until  that  night  on 
which  I  went  on  my  first  errand  and  saved  his 
life  at  peril  of  mine  own,  an  adventure  which 
happened  on  this  wise  : 

As  I  lay  feigning  sleep  by  the  ingleside  at 
151 


152  Feudal  Chateaux 

the  castle  of  St.  Saviour,  I  overheard  Guy  of 
Burgundy  and  certain  others  plotting  with  Sir 
Neal,  whose  guests  they  were,  to  surprise  and 
kill  my  master  as  he  lay  that  night,  but  slen- 
derly accompanied,  at  his  hunting-lodge  of 
Valognes.  All  unnoticed  I  stole  from  the 
castle,  and  mounting  my  horse  which  was  in 
the  stable,  I  made  off  through  the  fearsome 
night.  When  I  reached  the  lodge  I  beat 
upon  the  door  with  a  stirrup,  crying,  "  Treach- 
ery, Seigneur,  levez  !  levez  !  " 

When,  coming  down  and  putting  his  ear  to 
the  ground,  he  heard  the  hoof-beats  of  the  ruf- 
fians coming  to  slay  him,  "  The  caitiffs  are  in 
force,"  he  muttered  ;  "  here,  Raoul  and  An- 
toine,  sauvez  vous,  but  leave  a  light  burning 
and  the  door  bolted  that  they  may  think  me 
within  ! "  Then,  leaping  to  the  saddle,  he  gave 
me  his  hand,  for  my  horse  was  spent,  and 
climbing  by  his  foot  I  mounted  behind  him, 
he  bidding  me  "Hug  tight,  Little  Monkey"; 
and  so  we  dashed  on  with  but  little  advantage, 
a  race  for  life  or  death.  And  life  won,  for, 
just  as  day  was  breaking  and  our  horse  was 
staggering  blindly  on,  and  I  was  praying  my 
dear  lord  to  lighten  his  load  by  letting  me 
down,  we  came  to  a  chapel  at  the  gate  of  the 
castle  of  Rye,  and  my  lord  went  in  to  say 


A  Fool's  Errands  153 

his  prayers.  While  I  held  the  horse  without, 
the  Lord  of  Rye  and  his  three  sons  came  by 
as  they  were  starting  for  a  hunt.  And  when 
this  lord  heard  of  my  master's  flight  he  put 
him  and  me  on  his  own  fresh  horse,  and  his 
three  sons  went  with  us  for  a  bodyguard  ;  but 
my  lord  of  Rye  fastened  my  master's  tired 
horse  at  his  own  castle  gate,  so  that  when  the 
pursuers  came  up  they  saw  it  and  lost  much 
time  in  ransacking  the  castle,  and  so  we  got 
safe  to  the  castle  of  Falaise,  which  was  our 
own  stronghold. 

This  plot  of  Guy  of  Burgundy  to  slay  my 
master  and  to  seize  the  dukedom  had  come 
about  in  this  way :  My  master,  who  had  been 
bred  up  as  a  page  at  the  court  of  the  King  of 
France,  had  but  just  come  of  age,  and  had 
taken  the  governance  of  Normandy,  his  father, 
Duke  Robert,  having  perished  in  the  Holy 
Land  at  the  hand  of  the  infidels.  He  was 
joyfully  accepted  by  the  greater  part  of  the 
lords,  but  there  were  certain  ones  who  desired 
him  not,  being  stirred  up  to  this  treachery  by 
the  false  bishop  of  Rouen,  my  lord's  uncle 
Mauger,  who  favoured  his  other  nephew,  Guy. 
For  a  time  their  villainy  was  hidden. 

Guy  of  Burgundy  had  a  castle  on  the  front- 
ier of  Normandy,  where  he  often  came,  and 


154  Feudal  Chateaux 

he  sometimes  visited  my  master  at  Falaise. 
My  master,  being  great  of  soul,  suspected  no 
evil,  and  treated  Guy  right  cousinly.  One 
night,  as  they  feasted  together,  I  was  called 
upon  for  quips  and  merry  tales  till  my  brains 
were  wearied,  and  a  troubadour  sang  love- 
songs  ;  and  the  wine  having  warmed  them, 
Guy  said,  "  I  marvel,  Cousin  William,  that 
you,  who  have  had  a  taste  of  the  gay  life 
of  the  French  court,  should  be  pleased  with 
this  lonely  and  womanless  habitation.  Have 
the  damsels  of  Falaise  lost  their  beauty  since 
my  uncle's  time,  or  come  they  no  longer  to 
beat  their  linen  in  the  river  under  the  castle 
windows  ?  " 

Then  my  master  grew  angry,  but  he  re- 
strained himself,  and  he  thought,  "  Perchance 
Guy  meant  no  insult,  but  knew  no  better"  ;  so 
he  answered  that  he  was  indeed  lonely,  and 
had  thought  of  taking  a  wife,  but  that  when 
he  mated  it  must  be  with  no  village  maid,  and 
he  challenged  Guy  to  name  him  the  best 
match  in  all  Europe. 

"  If  by  the  best  match,"  said  Guy,  "  you 
mean  the  most  beautiful,  the  most  accom- 
plished, and  the  unattainable,  she  is  La  Belle 
Mathilde,  daughter  of  the  mighty  Baldwin  of 
Flanders." 


A  Fool's  Errands  155 

"  The  most  beautiful,  the  most  accomplished, 
and  the  most  virtuous,"  my  lord  said  after 
him  musingly,  "  may  answer  your  require- 
ments, but  such  common  qualities  are  not 
enough  for  me." 

"  She  is  also  a  most  wealthy  heiress,  so 
please  your  Grace,"  Guy  made  answer  in  some 
pique. 

"  My  Grace  is  not  sufficiently  well  pleased 
yet,"  quoth  my  exigeant  lord,  "and  for  this 
reason :  My  conscience  tells  me  that  I  am 
myself  a  fair  Christian,  my  peers  find  me  no 
lout,  and  there  be  ladies  who  have  told  me 
that  I  am  well  favoured.  Also  my  guardian, 
Alan  Fergeant  of  Brittany,  has  so  adminis- 
tered my  estates  that  I  have  more  wealth  than 
I  know  how  to  bestow.  Flanders  is  no  better 
than  Normandy  or  Burgundy — therefore,  in 
all  these  respects  the  lady  is  but  my  equal  and 
yours,  fair  cousin,  and  I  see  not  why  she  should 
be  greatly  desired  by  either  of  us." 

"  In  lineage,"  said  Guy,  "she  tops  us  both, 
for  she  is  descended  on  her  father's  side  from 
the  Saxon  King  Alfred  of  England,  and  her 
mother  was  Adelais,  daughter  of  Robert,  King 
of  France ;  she  is  related  also  to  the  Emperor 
of  Germany." 

Then  my  master  pricked  up  his  ears  and  mur- 


156  Feudal  Chateaux 

mured,  "  It  is  better  to  found  a  royal  line  than 
to  end  one,  but  descent  from  an  old  race  of 
kings  should  be  no  hindrance  to  those  who 
would  rule  in  a  new  dynasty." 

At  these  cogitations  Guy  could  not  keep  his 
countenance,  but  laughed  loudly,  giving  as  a 
mock-toast,  "  La  reine  Mathilde." 

Seeing  that  my  master  drank  to  this  toast 
but  scowlingly,  he  said,  still  bantering,  "  She 
is  indeed  fit  to  be  a  queen,  but  Edward  the 
Confessor  is  too  old  to  seek  a  bride,  and  our 
liege  lord  of  France  is  already  wed,  so  be  not 
discouraged,  fair  cousin." 

"  I  am  not  discouraged,"  my  master  an- 
swered stoutly,  "and  this  Mathilde  shall  be 
queen  of  me,  and  in  good  time  of  England 
and  France  also." 

"An*  if  she  be  not  pleased  to  accept  from 
you  the  crown  of  these  three  kingdoms  ? " 
Guy  asked. 

"With  all  her  wit,"  my  lord  answered,  "the 
damsel  hath  doubtless  the  discernment  to 
know  her  best  offer  when  it  is  made  her." 

"  That  hath  she  not,"  Guy  replied  hotly  ; 
"  for  she  cast  my  offer  in  my  teeth,  as  she  will 
thine,  saying  that  she  can  never  love  any  man. 
And  she  made  no  shame  of  the  reason,  that 
her  heart  is  given  to  Brihtric  Meaw  (or  snow, 


A  Fool's  Errands  157 

so  called  for  his  blond  beauty),  the  lord  of  the 
honour  of  Gloucester,  who  came  to  the  court 
of  Baldwin  as  ambassador  from  England. 
Since  he  returned  to  his  country  (refusing  her 
hand,  which  her  father  offered  him  with  a 
goodly  dowry),  she  has  drooped  and  pined, 
refusing  to  be  consoled  by  better  men  ;  so  let 
her  go,  Cousin  William,  for  an  obstinate  jade. 
You  and  I  can  do  better  than  to  gather  up 
another  man's  leavings." 

My  master  said  nothing  in  reply,  for  Guy 
had  touched  his  pride,  which  was  always  ac- 
counted the  tender  spot  in  his  armour,  and  he 
had  also  touched  his  pity ;  and  that  night  as  I 
lay  at  his  feet  I  heard  him  talking  in  his  sleep 
(it  was  then  only  that  he  babbled  his  secrets), 
and  pleading,  "  Nay,  lass,  but  let  me  try  to 
teach  thee  to  love  me." 

The  next  morning  the  Duke  of  Burgundy, 
seeing  that  what  his  cousin  had  said  the  night 
before  was  not  idle  vapouring,  but  that  he  was 
firmly  minded  to  set  forward  to  Lille,  persuaded 
him  to  tarry  for  a  few  days  to  hunt  a  naughty 
boar  which  Neal  of  St.  Saviours  had  told  him 
ranged  his  forests  and  had  slain  many  hunts- 
men. 

Hunting  was  my  lord's  dearest  sport,  so  he 
wrote  a  letter  to  Earl  Baldwin  demanding  his 


158  Feudal  Chateaux 

daughter's  hand  in  marriage,  and  sent  it  by 
his  servitors,  bidding  them  have  speech  with 
the  maid,  and  having  said  what  they  could  in 
his  favour,  to  urge  her  to  give  no  answer  until 
she  knew  her  suitor  better,  seeing  he  would 
shortly  come  for  his  answer  in  person  ;  and 
with  that  we  set  out  for  the  hunting  party. 
Guy  had  gone  on  ahead,  and  my  master  was  to 
join  him  at  Neal's  castle,  but  going  first  to  his 
own  hunting-lodge  of  Valognes  kept  by  a  few 
huntsmen ;  he  was  told  there  that  the  hunting 
was  so  good  that  he  tarried  to  try  it,  and  sent 
me  on  to  tell  Guy  and  Neal  that  he  would  be 
with  them  the  day  following.  It  was  a  disap- 
pointment to  his  would-be  host  that  he  came 
not — that  I  could  see,  for  he  had  invited  other 
lords,  as  I  thought  to  do  him  honour,  so  that 
the  castle  was  full  of  armed  men.  I  heard 
Guy  say  to  his  host,  "  Think  you  that  he  will 
surely  come  on  the  morrow  ?  Hath  he  been 
warned  of  the  plot?"  With  that  I  pricked 
up  my  ears ;  and  after  supper,  feigning  sleep  in 
the  shadowy  corner,  I  heard  more.  For  it 
was  settled  between  them  that  they  would  not 
wait  for  the  chances  of  the  morrow,  but  would 
ride  that  night  as  soon  as  the  moon  rose  to 
Valognes,  and  there  murder  my  master,  and 
Grimbald  of  Plessis  would  strike  the  blow. 


A  Fool's  Errands  159 

Then  it  was  that  I  saved  my  dear  master's 
life,  as  I  have  recounted,  save  that  I  have  not 
told  that  when  he  held  out  his  hand  to  aid  my 
climbing,  crying,  "Up,  Little  Monkey"  (his 
pet  name  for  me),  I  would  not  mount,  my 
heart  being  swollen  with  contrary  passions  of 
love  and  wounded  pride,  but  I  threw  myself 
on  the  bracken,  crying  that  if  I  was  but  a 
beast  I  were  not  worth  the  saving.  Then  my 
dear  lord  swore  that  he  would  nevermore  so 
misname  me,  but  that  I  was  his  little  quen  (or 
chosen  companion),  and  I  sprang  full  joyfully 
behind  him,  hugging  him  as  tight  as  ever  lover 
held  his  sweetheart. 

After  that  the  conspiracy  took  open  shape, 
and  my  lord  with  his  battering  of  the  rebel- 
lious lords  into  their  allegiance,  had  no  time 
to  think  of  love-making.  Earl  Baldwin,  too, 
had  sent  word  that  though  he  asked  no  better 
son-in-law,  his  daughter  had  vowed  never  to 
marry. 

"  It  is  but  what  I  looked  for,"  said  my 
master,  "and  I  like  her  the  better  for  it. 
Light  won,  little  worth ;  she  shall  know  me 
better — and  change  her  mind." 

So,  when  he  had  overcome  all  his  enemies, 
and  some  were  killed,  and  some  in  prison,  and 
some  had  rendered  themselves,  and  Guy  had 


160  Feudal  Chateaux 

fled  to  his  own  estates,  and  the  King  of 
France  had  made  a  league  of  peace  with  my 
master,  we  set  out  for  Lille  upon  our  wooing. 
He  sent  a  page  to  announce  his  coming,  who 
came  back  to  the  inn  with  the  crestfallen 
aspect  of  a  whipped  dog.  My  master  saw 
that  he  had  bungled  his  errand  before  he  had 
uttered  a  word. 

"  So  she  will  have  none  of  me  ?  and  what 
saidst  thou  in  my  favour  ?  "  he  asked  shortly. 

"  That  which  is  held  of  all  men  concerning 
thee :  that  never  was  seen  a  man  so  grandly 
formed,  or  so  fairly  accoutred,  nor  one  who 
rode  so  gallantly,  and  became  his  hauberk  so 
well,  or  bore  himself  so  gracefully  among 
ladies,  or  with  such  credit  among  scholars,  or 
with  such  honour  among  knights,  or  with  such 
gentleness  in  his  household." 1 

"And  when  may  I  belie  thy  praises?"  Duke 
William  asked. 

"  I  counsel  thee  to  let  the  matter  rest  as  it 
is,"  quoth  the  messenger,  "  for  though  her 
father  is  rightly  called  the  Gentle,  thou  art 
well  rid  of  such  a  shrew,  for  she  scoffed  at  my 
persuasions  and  vowed  by  Our  Lady  that 
when  she  married  it  would  not  be  with  a 
bastard." 

1  Wace,  a  historian  of  the  time,  praises  William  in  these  terms. 


A  Fool's  Errands  161 

With  that  word  the  blood  mounted  into  my 
master's  face,  and  then  left  it  white  as  death, 
and  he  strode  to  the  Earl's  palace,  I  following 
unregarded.  It  was  a  Sunday,  and  it  so  fell 
out  that  when  he  reached  the  door  the  Lady 
Mathilde  met  him  with  her  maids,  returning 
from  the  cathedral.  She  was  daintily  arrayed 
in  a  silken  gown  broidered  with  roses,  a  veil 
of  silver-shot  tissue  covering  but  not  conceal- 
ing her  beautiful  hair,  which  was  braided  in  long 
tresses  with  ropes  of  pearls.  She  held  her  mis- 
sal demurely  in  one  hand,  and  in  the  other,  as 
though  it  were  a  royal  sceptre,  a  palm  branch 
that  she  had  gotten  at  church,  and  I  have 
never  seen  a  lovelier  picture.  My  master  with 
all  his  rage  was  struck  by  her  beauty,  and 
gazed  at  her  for  a  moment  spellbound. 

She  returned  his  gaze  with  one  of  question- 
ing, for  he  blocked  her  way,  and  being  travel- 
stained  and  unshorn^  he  was  not  to  be  known 
for  the  gallant  of  whom  his  herald  had  told 
her. 

His  tongue  came  to  him  as  he  saw  her  half- 
scornful  look,  and  he  asked  brusquely  if  she 
was  that  Mathilde,  daughter  of  Earl  Baldwin. 

She  nodded,  as  disdaining  speech  with  him, 
which  so  angered  my  lord,  even  while  her 
loveliness  inflamed  him,  that  he  cried,  "And  I 


1 62  Feudal  Chateaux 

am  William  of  Normandy,  and  I  suffer  no 
man  or  woman  to  insult  me  unpunished." 
With  that  he  caught  her  by  the  arms  and 
shook  her  as  one  shakes  a  vexing  child.  Then 
she,  all  unafeared  and  blazing  with  temper, 
turned  up  her  little  nose  at  him,  crying,  "  Un- 
hand me,  thou  dirty  tanner ;  I  am  not  a  calf- 
skin for  thy  vats  ! " 

At  this  second  insult  to  his  mother  and  him- 
self, his  rage  so  overcame  him  that  he  cuffed 
her  and  rolled  her  in  the  dust,  in  full  view  of 
a  large  concourse  of  townspeople,  who  came 
running  at  her  screaming,  her  father  also 
standing  transfixed  with  astonishment  in  his 
door. 

But  my  lord's  anger  vanished  as  quickly 
as  it  had  risen,  and  he  lifted  her  in  his 
arms,  she  silent  now  and  looking  at  him  in 
wonder,  but  with  neither  fear  nor  anger. 
And  he,  crying,  "  Forgive  me,  proud  mistress, 
but  your  words  have  given  more  pain  than 
my  unmannerly  actions,"  set  her  gently  on  her 
feet,  and  so,  head  in  air,  strode  back  through 
the  crowd  to  the  inn.  I  followed  greatly 
abashed,  for  I  liked  not  to  see  the  adventure 
end  there,  and  I  could  hear  Earl  Baldwin 
bawling  for  his  sword  to  avenge  the  indignity 
done  his  daughter. 


A  Fool's  Errands  163 

My  lord  slackened  his  pace  at  these  shouts, 
and  bade  me  go  back  and  tell  the  Earl  that 
he  would  meet  him  at  Augi  on  the  frontier, 
with  his  men-at-arms,  and  in  battle  or  in  sin- 
gle combat  would  give  him  satisfaction.  His 
anger  was  gone,  and  he  was  red  with  shame. 

"  God's  death  !  it  was  a  scurvy  trick  to  serve 
a  lady,"  he  muttered,  "and  the  Earl  may 
punish  me  as  he  likes.  If  we  meet  in  battle 
he  shall  work  his  will  and  have  no  harm  from 
me.  Thou  art  my  fittest  messenger,  Turold, 
for  I  have  indeed  come  upon  a  fool's 
errand." 

I  went  back,  therefore,  with  this  message, 
which  was  half  challenge,  half  apology,  and  I 
added,  of  my  own  impudence,  that  my  lord 
rested  his  cause  in  the  hands  of  the  Lady  Ma- 
thilde,  and  would  do  such  penance  as  she 
pleased  to  ordain.  When  she  heard  that, 
she  prayed  her  father  to  stay  his  answer,  and 
called  me  apart  into  her  bower,  and  bade  me 
tell  her  more  of  my  master,  and  what  virtues 
there  might  be  to  offset  his  too  quick  temper. 
My  lord's  first  messenger  had  spoken  only 
of  his  bodily  comeliness  and  prowess.  "  As 
to  the  first,"  she  said,  "  I  believe  he  spoke 
sooth,  for  so  beautiful  and  terrible  must  St. 
George  have  looked  to  the  dragon ;  and  he 


1 64  Feudal  Chateaux 

must  be  a  man  of  great  courage  and  high  dar- 
ing who  could  venture  to  beat  me  in  my  own 
father's  presence."  Then  I,  lamenting  in  my 
heart  that  I  had  not  an  eloquent  tongue, 
poured  out  all  my  love  for  my  young  master. 

"  It  is  an  ill  thing,  gentle  lady,"  said  I, 
"when  a  pious,  a  loving,  and  a  proud  heart 
like  my  master's  cannot  obey  that  command- 
ment of  Holy  Church,  '  Honor  thy  father  and 
thy  mother,'  more  especially  as  my  master 
loved  both  of  his  parents  with  as  great  a  pas- 
sion as  that  of  sons  whose  affection  is  blent 
with  reverence.  And  though  his  mother,  the 
tanner's  pretty  daughter  Arlette,  had  never  a 
wedding-ring  to  her  finger,  and  his  father, 
Robert  le  Diable,  well  deserved  his  name, 
they  showed  each  of  them  as  great  a  devotion 
for  their  child  as  could  the  best  of  parents. 
For  Duke  Robert,  when  he  heard  that  Arlette 
(whom  he  had  hitherto  loved  but  lightly,)  was 
dead,  and  that  she  had  commended  her  babe 
to  him,  was  smitten  with  remorse  and  sent  and 
fetched  him  from  the  tanner's  house,  named 
him  William,  and  brought  him  up  in  his  own 
castle,  caring  for  him  with  a  father's  and 
mother's  tenderness  in  one.  There  was  no 
woman  in  Falaise  castle,  but  Duke  Robert 
sent  for  a  learned  clerk,  Ordericus  Vitalis,  to 


A  Fool's  Errands  165 

be  his  son's  tutor,  while  as  yet  the  boy  could 
scarcely  talk,  so  that  he  learned  Latin  as  soon 
as  Norman  French.  He  had  in  other  boys  to 
be  his  playfellows  and  schoolmates,  I  among 
them,  and  save  that  Odo  was  the  subtler  logi- 
cian, and  another  had  the  gift  of  eloquence, 
and  Taillefer  a  knack  of  matching  rhymes, 
our  young  master  was  the  scholar  of  us  all. 
He  was  so  bewitched  with  the  story  of  Cae- 
sar's fighting  that  he  ever  outran  his  stent, 
and  then  acted  it  all  over  in  our  play,  building 
an  oppidum  and  causing  us  to  figure  as  Ario- 
vistus,  Vercingetorix,  and  other  Gauls,  we 
getting  broken  heads  as  our  share  of  this  lusty 
sport.  As  for  me,  I  was  no  scholard,  but  my 
fingers  had  a  knack  of  drawing  with  a  bit  of 
charred  stick,  and  my  tongue  found  ever  a 
saucy  answer,  so  that  Duke  Robert  marked 
me  out,  in  spite  of  my  small  stature,  and  had 
me  to  Paris  with  his  son,  where  I  learned  to 
be  a  painter,  and,  what  is  much  the  same,  a 
fool. 

"  It  was  when  my  young  Lord  William 
was  seven  years  old  that  Duke  Robert  saw 
that  his  son  had  his  spirit  and  his  mother's 
beauty.  Then  he  called  his  peers  and  vassals 
together  in  the  great  hall  of  his  castle,  and 
said,  '  I  go  to  Palestine  for  the  shriving  of  my 


1 66  Feudal  Chateaux 

soul,  but  I  leave  my  dukedom  in  the  ward  of 
my  dear  friend  and  neighbour,  Alan  Fergeant 
of  Brittany,  who,  though  he  is  young,  will 
govern  wisely  and  faithfully  until  my  return, 
or,  if  I  die  in  this  adventure,  until  the  coming 
of  age  of  this  my  son,  whom  I  beseech  you  to 
accept  as  your  lawful  sovereign.' 

"And  the  lad  bore  himself  so  handsomely 
that  Duke  Robert's  quens,  for  the  love  they 
bore  him  (for  he  was  a  merry  comrade  and 
true,  though  a  sinful  man),  raised  the  little 
William  on  their  shields  and  swore  fealty  to 
him.  Then  Duke  Robert  took  us  to  Paris 
to  the  court  of  King  Henry,  to  be  bred  up  at 
court. 

"  This  much  is  known  of  all,  but  what  is 
not  publicly  known  is  that  his  mother  died 
not,  as  was  supposed.  Her  father  had  caused 
this  report  to  be  given  out  because  Arlette 
foresaw  what  would  follow  ;  namely,  that  Duke 
Robert  would  love  her  more  truly  dead  than 
living,  and  that  remorse  would  make  of  a  false 
lover  a  true  father.  So  she  held  herself  in 
seclusion  at  the  tannery,  and  none  save  her 
father  knew  that  she  lived,  though  she  could 
see  her  son  at  play,  drilling  the  boys  as  sol- 
diers ;  and  she  remembered  how,  the  day  that 
he  was  born,  when  lying  neglected  on  the 


A  Fool's  Errands  167 

floor  (for  she  was  thought  to  be  dying),  he  had 
clenched  his  tiny  hands  on  the  straw,  and  the 
witch-wife  who  tended  her  said,  '  He  has  begun 
early  to  clutch  at  things  and  what  he  seizes  he 
will  hold.'  So,  for  the  boy's  good,  she  stifled 
her  mother-hunger  and  kept  from  him  until 
the  day  that  her  father  told  her  that  he  had 
been  publicly  owned  by  the  Duke  as  his  son, 
and  accepted  by  the  lords  as  the  heir  to  the 
dukedom,  and  that  on  the  morrow  he  would 
go  away.  Then  the  yearning  to  kiss  her  son 
farewell  was  so  strong  within  her  that  she 
veiled  herself  and  came  upon  us  as  she  saw  us 
sporting  by  the  river,  and  she  kissed  him  full 
tenderly  and  wept.  She  had  meant  to  do  no 
more,  but  the  passion  of  mother-love  carried 
all  before  it,  and  she  called  him  her  son. 
Then  when  she  had  recovered  herself  she 
swore  him  to  secrecy,  saying,  '  Thus  only  canst 
thou  come  to  thy  kingdom.' 

"  But  the  boy  had  replied  to  her  caresses, 
and  strove  to  dry  her  tears.  '  Thou  art  a 
pretty  woman,'  he  said,  'an  thou  dost  not 
weep.  I  have  never  been  kissed  by  a  woman 
before ;  thy  breast  is  a  sweet  pillow,  and  thy 
cheek  is  soft,  not  bristly  like  my  father's ;  I 
knew  not  woman's  love  were  so  sweet;  I 
would  rather  have  it  than  kingship.' 


1 68  Feudal  Chateaux 

"  '  Nay,'  said  she,  '  kingship  is  better ;  hold 
thou  to  that,  and  beware  of  love,  for  it  is  the 
undoing  of  man  and  woman,  save  indeed  that 
love  which  asks  for  no  love  in  return,  only 
the  good  of  that  it  loves,  and  the  fierce  joy 
of  loving.' 

"  We  understood  not  then,  for  we  were  but 
children,  but  we  kept  the  secret  and  my  lord 
mused  much  upon  it,  and  now  and  again  he 
spoke  to  me  of  his  mother  at  the  French 
court.  '  And  if  she  holds  lordship  so  precious 
who  has  loved  so  much,'  he  said,  'then  I  will 
keep  my  heart  from  love's  tangles,  and  give 
myself  only  to  ambition.  But  when  I  am 
come  to  my  own  again,  I  will  search  for  my 
mother  and  she  shall  be  lady  of  my  father's 
castle.'  But  when  we  were  come  to  Falaise 
his  mother  was  dead  in  very  sooth,  and  he 
could  do  nought  to  repay  her  self-sacrifice. 
So  it  is  not  so  much  shame  for  his  lowly  ori- 
gin as  love  and  pity  for  his  mother,  and  an- 
ger with  his  father,  that  fills  my  lord  with  fury 
at  the  word  '  bastard.' " 

Mathilde  had  heard  me  thus  far  silently,  but 
she  spoke  now.  "  I  have  misjudged  him.  I 
have  heard  of  him  before ;  but  his  cousin  Guy 
of  Burgundy  told  me  that  he  was  as  savage  as 
the  Viking  pirate  Rollo,  from  whom  he  is 


A  Fool's  Errands  169 

descended,  a  hater  of  women  and  cruel  to  men. 
Tell  me,  is  it  true,  as  Guy  said,  that  on  the  tak- 
ing of  the  city  of  Alengon  he  caused  certain 
prisoners  to  be  flayed  alive  ?  " 

"Nay,"  I  replied ;  "  you  have  heard  that 
story  wrong.  When  Alan  Fergeant  faithfully 
delivered  to  him  his  kingdom,  all  his  lords 
greeted  his  home-coming  and  came  to  his 
crowning,  save  only  three  or  four,  and  his  un- 
cle Mauger,  his  father's  false  brother,  Bishop 
of  Rouen.  Then  my  lord  understood  that 
King  Henry  of  France,  knowing  what  an 
adventurous  and  ambitious  spirit  my  master 
had,  feared  he  would  be  no  safe  vassal  and 
neighbour,  and  had  plotted  with  Mauger  to 
make  Guy  Duke  of  both  Normandy  and  Brit- 
tany. But  my  lord  was  not  angered,  for  he 
said :  '  Guy  is  descended  from  Rollo  as  well 
as  I,  but  through  my  aunt  Alice,  and  were  it 
not  for  the  Salic  law,  he  would  have  as  good 
a  right  to  the  dukedom ;  we  will  fight  for  it 
even  as  Rollo  did  with  the  King  of  France, 
but  there  shall  be  no  ill  will  between  us,  and 
the  better  man  shall  win.' 

"He  forgave  the  daughter  of  William  Tal- 
vas,  Mabel  Montgomery,  who  was  his  false 
hostess  when  as  a  boy  he  visited  her  castle 
and  another  lad  was  killed  in  his  bed  by  her 


1 70  Feudal  Chateaux 

brother  Oliver,  though,  as  it  was  suspected,  by 
her  connivance.  He  bore  her  no  ill  will,  I 
say,  because  of  his  love  for  her  husband, 
Roger  Montgomery,  who  stood  by  him  and 
fought  with  him  when  Mabel  had  induced 
Geoffrey  Foulque  of  Anjou  to  garrison  and 
hold  her  castle  of  Alengon  against  my  lord. 

"  But  what  he  could  not  forgive,  was  that 
neat-skins  were  hung  on  the  walls  of  the  castle 
with  the  inscription,  '  Work  for  the  tanner.' 
My  lord  swore  that  they  who  did  that  should 
be  flayed  and  their  skins  tanned  and  hung 
where  the  filthy  insult  had  been  displayed." 

"  It  was  a  hard  sentence,"  quoth  the  Lady 
Mathilde,  "  but  I  understand  him  now ;  't  is  a 
loving  nature  turned  bitter,  and  he  who  could 
thus  avenge  an  insult  to  his  mother  would 
doubtless  brook  none  to  his  wife." 

"  Nay,"  I  answered,  "  but  hear  me  out.  My 
lord's  actions  were  less  brutal  than  his  threat. 
His  anger  is  soon  cooled,  and  when  the  das- 
tards fell  into  his  hands  he  caused  their  hides 
to  be  tanned,  but  with  a  thong  only,  and  left 
them  on  their  backs  to  heal." 

My  lady's  eyes  grew  great  with  wonder. 
"  He  rolled  me  but  gently,"  she  murmured  to 
herself,  "doing  injury  only  to  my  finery;  and 
surely  we  were  equals  then  not  alone  in  our 


A  Fool's  Errands  i;1 

dusty  appearance,  for  a  foul  tongue  is  more 
shame  to  its  owner  than  a  besmirched  an- 
cestry ;  we  are  quits,  if  he  will  forgive  my 
shrewishness.  But  tell  me,  Sir  Fool,"  and 
here  she  blushed,  "since  your  master  holds 
love  as  nothing  to  ambition,  how  is  it  that  he 
loves  me?" 

"  Fair  lady,"  I  replied,  "  though  in  verity  it 
was  ambition  that  first  made  him  lift  his 
thoughts  to  thee,  when  he  saw  thee  his  soul 
went  out  of  his  eyes,  and  doubt  not  that  he 
loves  thee  truly." 

With  that  she  laughed.  "  I  guessed  rightly 
then,"  she  said,  after  a  little  space  ;  "  my  Saxon 
lineage  and  connexions  will  be  helpful  to  him 
in  his  pretensions.  I  should  have  known  that  no 
one,  however  base-born,  could  truly  love  me." 

"  Nay,  Mistress,"  I  plead  again,  "  I  swear  to 
thee,  love  came  at  first  sight."  She  smiled 
again,  but  there  was  no  gladness  in  the  smile. 

"Yea,  Fool,  my  words  were  amiable  and 
his  actions  loving !  I  was  not  made  for  love. 
Nevertheless,  thou  hast  done  thy  duty  well — 
't  is  a  fool's  wooing,  and  I  am  won,  the  more 
fool  I." 

With  that  we  went  in  to  her  father,  and  she 
said,  "  William  of  Normandy  pleases  me,  and 
none  other  will  I  have  for  a  husband." 


1 72  Feudal  Chateaux 

The  Earl  laughed  loudly,  and  swore  that 
a  maid's  mind  was  beyond  his  wit,  while  his 
chaplain,  who  stood  by,  answered  him,  "Yea, 
my  lord,  for  it  is  written,  '  Mulier  hominis  con- 
fusio  est.' >! 

So  Earl  Baldwin  bade  me  answer  that  Duke 
William  might  meet  him  at  Castle  Augi,  and 
there  make  happy  reparation  for  his  hastiness. 
"  But  by  Our  Lady ! "  he  said  to  his  daughter, 
"an  he  roll  you  in  the  dust  again,  I  will  see 
that  he  rolls  there  too,  never  to  arise." 

So  these  twain  were  wed.  Earl  Baldwin 
bestowed  great  grants  of  land  and  riches  upon 
his  daughter,  and  made  a  league  with  his  son- 
in-law  to  help  him  with  his  soldiery  and  his 
substance  at  home  and  abroad,  in  peace  and 
in  war.  The  Lady  Mathilde  was  gloriously 
apparelled,  more  in  the  guise  of  a  queen  than 
a  bride,  all  in  cloth  of  gold,  with  a  mantle 
broidered  with  jewels,  and  a  jewelled  diadem 
instead  of  a  wreath  of  orange  flowers.  And 
in  penance  for  his  savagery  (the  Duke  would 
have  it  so),  before  he  knelt  with  her  at  the 
altar,  he  knelt  before  her  at  the  church  steps 
and  laid  his  forehead  on  the  stone,  placing 
with  his  hands  her  dainty  foot  upon  his  head. 
And  when  she  had  suffered  this  very  unwill- 
ingly, she  took  off  her  satin  slipper  and  bade 


A  Fool's  Errands  173 

me  bear  it  for  her  as  a  thing  precious,  for  it 
should  never  tread  upon  earth  again  ;  and  she 
walked  to  her  marriage  as  a  penitent,  unshod 
save  for  her  silken  hose. 

That  was  a  grand  wedding,  but  where  love 
is  not  there  is  no  true  marriage,  and,  though 
each  loved  the  other  and  hungered  for  each 
other's  love,  they  knew  not  that  they  had  their 
desire,  and  so  for  long  years  they  were  but 
half  wed.  And  here  in  sooth  is  a  great  mys- 
tery, that  a  man  and  his  wife  may  so  live  and 
love,  and  strive  in  their  very  souls  to  be  leal 
to  one  another,  and  to  speak  sooth  and  kind- 
ness— and  yet  may  not  fully  know  each  other's 
hearts.  And  this  misunderstanding  came 
about  from  great  desire  of  frankness,  for 
before  they  went  to  church  they  did  their  best 
to  make  true  confession  to  one  another ;  but 
words  have  not  the  power  to  carry  right  sense 
to  those  whose  minds  are  perversely  twisted 
to  believe  a  contrary  thing.  The  Lady  Ma- 
thilde,  believing  that  Duke  William  wedded 
her  but  to  serve  his  ambitions,  would  receive 
no  protestation  of  affection  from  him,  but 
said,  "  My  Lord,  let  us  not  deceive  one  an- 
other, for  even  if  there  be  no  pitch  of  love 
between  us,  with  mutual  respect  and  truth  we 
may  win  happiness,  and  be  great  aid  and 


174  Feudal  Chateaux 

solace  to  one  another,  if  only  thou  canst  swear, 
as  I  do,  that,  whatever  may  have  chanced  in 
the  past,  thou  art  quit  of  all  such  entangle- 
ments of  heart  and  lovest  not  in  any  other 
quarter." 

This  she  said  as  much  to  clear  herself  in  his 
eyes  (for  she  knew  that  her  former  infatuation 
was  known)  as  to  make  her  mind  sure  that  she 
had  no  rival.  He  took  the  oath  very  gladly, 
for  he  had  never  loved  any  woman,  and  in  his 
humbleness  he  asked  no  more  of  her  than  she 
offered,  being  exceeding  thankful  to  have  her 
on  any  terms.  She,  poor  child,  the  while,  be- 
cause he  insisted  not  on  her  love,  fancied  that 
he  did  not  desire  it — such  a  plague  it  is  for 
man  and  woman  to  come  to  any  understand- 
ing. This  state  of  things  endured  for  years, 
my  master  loving  the  very  ground  on  which 
his  wife  trod,  but  mastering  himself  to  treat 
her  at  all  times  with  stately  reverence,  and 
submitting  himself  to  her  gentle  tyranny.  He 
had  the  discernment  to  see  that,  while  he  had 
valour  and  strength  of  mind  and  body  for  the 
carrying  out  of  great  enterprises,  she  had  the 
wit  for  planning  them,  and  he  was  content  to 
be  hand  and  arm  to  her  head.  They  had  each 
a  great  fondness  for  building,  and  many  were 
the  plans  which  the  clerk  Gundulph  and  I 


A  Fool's  Errands  175 

drew  up  under  their  direction.  The  old  cas- 
tles of  Normandy  were  all  of  one  pattern. 
One  huge,  rough  tower,  called  the  donjon- 
keep,  was  the  residence  of  the  lord  and  his 
family.  This  keep  in  early  times  was  round, 
though  now  we  build  them  square,  with  square 
turrets  at  each  angle,  and  a  buttress  up  the 
centre  of  the  front.  There  were  other  smaller 
towers  near  by,  which  were  the  outbuildings  of 
the  castle,  and  the  lodging  of  the  garrison,  and 
contributed,  with  the  connecting  wall,  to  the 
defence.  Outside  the  walls  was  a  moat  or 
river.  Across  this  moat  went  the  drawbridge 
of  the  sally-port,  and  beyond  the  moat  were 
warders'  towers  for  the  further  defence  of  the 
entrance,  and  a  stockaded  barnyard,  or  bailey, 
into  which  the  cattle  and  horses  were  driven 
at  night. 

Our  Norman  castles  were  indeed  but  a 
mixture  of  grange  and  fortress,  and  no  fit 
habitation  for  a  delicate  lady.  It  irked  my 
dear  lord  sore  to  bring  his  bride  to  his  ances- 
tral castle  at  Falaise.  There  had  not  been  a 
Duchess  of  Normandy  for  fifty  years, — since 
the  time  of  my  lord's  grandmother,  whom 
none  of  us  had  known,  so  that  there  was  no 
provision  for  so  fair  a  dove  in  this  eagle's  nest. 
The  great  keep  was  fit  only  for  men,  and  for 


176  Feudal  Chateaux 

men  of  war.  The  first  story  held  the  provisions 
and  munitions  ;  the  second  was  a  great  kitchen 
and  dining-hall  in  one,  with  fireplace  and  bake 
ovens  at  one  end,  where  the  cook  turned  the 
spit  that  roasted  a  quarter  of  an  ox,  while  the 
steward  served  at  table  at  the  other  end.  In 
the  thickness  of  the  wall,  which  was  double 
and  filled  in  with  rubble,  were  the  staircase  and 
various  passages,  closets,  and  secret  hiding- 
places.  The  third  floor  was  the  hall  of  assem- 
bly, or  great  hall  of  the  castle,  in  which  the 
Duke  received  his  quens.  There  was  a  fire- 
place here,  but  the  chamber  was  so  large  that 
it  was  cold  even  when  great  logs  were  blazing, 
and  the  benches  on  each  side  of  the  chimney 
had  high  backs  to  keep  off  the  wind.  The 
bed,  which  stood  in  one  corner,  was  fended 
from  the  room  with  heavy  curtains.  There 
was  a  great  oaken  table  near  the  fireplace 
on  which  was  an  inkhorn,  and  in  presses  in 
the  wall  were  a  good  store  of  manuscripts. 
There  were  chests  for  linen  and  clothing  which 
served  also  for  seats.  The  dogs  were  free  of 
the  room,  for  his  hounds  were  my  lord's  pets. 
There  were  stairs  and  doors  leading  up  to  the 
parapets,  and  a  great  opening  in  the  middle  of 
the  floor  whereby  stones  and  engines  of  war 
could  be  hoisted  from  the  cellars  by  means  of 


A  Fool's  Errands  177 

a  windlass  in  case  of  siege,  but  this  opening 
was  closed  with  a  trap-door  in  time  of  peace. 
There  was  at  one  corner  of  this  great  hall  a 
little  room  hollowed  in  the  masonry  of  the 
thick  wall,  called  formerly  My  Lady's  Chamber. 
It  had  been  the  bower  of  my  lord's  grandame, 
but  after  she  died  it  went  by  the  name  of  the 
haunted  turret,  for  some  prattled  that  they 
had  seen  a  white  face  looking  from  its  narrow 
window.  There  were  those  who  were  bold 
enough  to  say  that  Duke  Robert  le  Diable 
kept  Arlette,  the  tanner's  daughter,  hidden 
there.  The  old  castles  throughout  Nor- 
mandy were  no  better  than  this,  saving  that  at 
Arques,  which  was  Bishop  Odo's,  and  went  for 
the  most  luxurious  habitation  in  the  province, 
though  there  were  no  women  there  either. 
It  was  also  the  strongest  fortress  on  the  Chan- 
nel. Odo  was  a  fighting  bishop,  and  though 
from  his  vows  he  could  not  use  a  sword,  his 
mace  was  heavy  and  the  muscles  of  his  arm 
stood  out  from  use  of  it.  He  needed  many 
outbuildings  for  barracks,  for  he  had  many 
retainers. 

My  lord  would  have  put  off  his  marriage 
until  he  could  have  received  his  Duchess  in 
state,  but  when  he  told  her  of  this  at  Augi, 
before  their  wedding,  she  replied  that  she 


178  Feudal  Chateaux 

would  liefer  go  to  his  eyrie  on  the  crags  of 
Falaise,  and  there  plan  with  him  the  building 
of  their  new  home — which  pleased  my  lord 
well.  He  fitted  up  the  haunted  turret  as  best 
he  could  for  her  boudoir,  and  I  painted  posies 
and  love-mottoes  in  gay  letters  along  the  tim- 
ber rafters.  I  painted  also  a  little  picture  of 
the  Madonna  in  the  niche  which  was  the  tur- 
ret oratory,  and  the  Virgin  had  the  face  of 
La  Belle  Mathilde  as  I  remembered  it.  The 
seats  along  the  wall  in  the  great  hall  were 
newly  covered  with  skins  of  wolf  and  bear,  the 
floor  was  strewn  with  rushes,  the  walls  were 
hung  with  armour  and  with  antlers  of  deer ; 
in  the  centre  of  the  room  was  a  great  brazen 
lamp  hung  by  chains,  kept  burning  all  night 
for  fear  of  ghosts,  and  the  chimney-piece  was 
cunningly  chopped  by  means  of  an  axe  in  zig- 
zags. The  two  stone  pillars  had  cushion- 
shaped  capitals,  and  the  shelf  held  many  new 
silver  flagons  and  platters.  It  was  a  good 
enough  place  for  men,  but  when  I  thought  of 
Earl  Baldwin's  palace  in  the  city  of  Lille,  with 
its  silken  curtains,  its  soft  carpets,  its  paint- 
ings and  tapestries  and  embossed  leathers 
and  other  luxuries,  I  wondered  whether  our 
Duchess  would  not  pine  in  this  warrior-like 
abode ;  but  we  need  have  had  no  fears.  The 


A  Fool's  Errands  179 

moment  Duke  William  lifted  her  from  her  pal- 
frey she  clapped  her  hands  in  glee,  and  ran 
ahead  of  him,  exploring  the  castle.  She  found 
of  herself  her  own  face  in  the  Madonna, 
which  I  painted  to  signify  that  she  was  the 
object  of  my  lord's  devotions  ;  but  my  lord, 
who  knew  nothing  of  my  work  till  that  mo- 
ment, had  not  the  quickness  of  mind  or  the 
dishonesty  to  take  the  credit  of  it,  but  said, 
right  stupidly,  that  it  was  "some  foolishness 
of  Turold's." 

With  that  she  looked  at  me  very  gravely. 
"  'T  is  like,  if  thou  canst  weave  such  pictures 
with  thy  fingers,  that  the  romance  thou  didst 
recount  to  me  at  Lille  has  little  more  of  truth 
in  it."  And  I  knew  that  I  had  not  helped  my 
lord's  cause  as  I  had  hoped  to  do. 

She  brought  with  her  many  chests  of  house- 
hold linen,  and  fine  garments  garnished  with 
lace,  and  silver  flagons  and  candlesticks,  but 
no  maids  or  serving-people,  for  she  had  the 
good  sense  to  know  that  these  might  quarrel 
with  her  husband's  people ;  and  she  had  set 
herself  to  make  us  all  love  her,  which  she 
presently  effected,  from  Bishop  Odo  to  my 
insignificance.  As  for  the  quens, — Alan  Fer- 
geant,  Raoul  de  Grace,  Roger  de  Beaumont, 
Fitz  Osborn,  Roger  Montgomery,  Geoffrey 


i8o  Feudal  Chateaux 

Martel,  Hugh  de  Grantmesnil,  William  de 
Warenne,  Taillefer  the  minstrel,  and  the  rest, 
— they  were  hers  to  a  man.  But  she  was  not 
content  with  the  homage  of  mankind.  They 
must  all  bring  their  mothers,  their  wives,  their 
sweethearts,  and  their  sisters,  all  of  whom  loved 
her  excepting  the  false-hearted  Mabel  Mont- 
gomery ;  and  at  last  we  had  a  true  court  in 
Normandy.  There  were  great  hunting  parties, 
for  my  lord  loved  hunting  beyond  any  pastime, 
and  to  pleasure  him  my  lady  learned  to  follow 
the  deer  at  his  side.  There  were  church  festi- 
vals, with  processions  to  holy  shrines,  to  the 
content  of  Bishop  Odo  ;  and  there  was  dancing 
as  well  as  feasting  at  our  castle,  with  harpers 
and  other  musicians ;  and  the  songs  of  the  min- 
strels were  cleaner  ;  and  I  cudgelled  my  brains 
for  jests  fit  for  ladies'  ears,  which  would  raise 
the  laugh  without  the  blush. 

When  the  wind  whistled  ice  and  snow  upon 
us  from  the  north,  she  set  up  her  broidery 
frame  and  taught  the  women  to  broider  tap- 
estry. For  this  work  I  was  set  to  draw 
patterns,  and  Bishop  Odo  was  for  sacred  sub- 
jects, from  the  lives  of  the  saints,  for  the 
Church  ;  but  nothing  would  content  my  master 
but  she  must  broider  the  story  of  Caesar's  con- 
quest of  Gaul.  And  she  promised  that  both 


A  Fool's  Errands  181 

should  be  pleasured,  and  she  did  it  in  her 
own  way, — as  I  shall  tell  you  in  the  sequel,  lest 
I  outrun  my  story. 

All  was  not  sunshine,  however,  for  though 
Guy  of  Burgundy  had  owned  himself  beaten, 
Mauger  was  for  revenge  by  underhand 
means.  He  declared  that  the  Duke  and 
Duchess  were  within  bonds  of  relationship 
banned  to  wedlock,  and  excommunicated 
them,  declaring  their  marriage  illegal. 

When  my  lord  heard  that,  he  cried,  "  I  spit 
upon  his  excommunication,  and  Odo  shall  beat 
him  out  of  Rouen  with  his  men-at-arms,  and 
take  his  bishopric."  But  he  grew  white  as  he 
thought  what  a  curse  that  word  "  illegitimate  " 
had  been  to  him.  His  own  children  were 
coming  now :  the  lads,  Robert  Curthose,  short 
and  sturdy,  named  for  the  old  Duke  ;  William 
Rufus,  ruddy  as  his  father,  and  the  child  of 
his  heart,  for  he  had  both  his  face  and  name ; 
there  was  little  Cicely  too,  but  Henry  and  the 
other  girls  came  later.  Henry  was  ever  a 
lonely  child,  for  his  mother  loved  her  first- 
born best ;  so  Henry  was  left  to  Lanfranc  and 
the  love  of  books,  and  they  called  him  Henry 
Beau  Clerc.  At  last,  when  his  father  lay 
dying,  he  asked,  "  Since  Robert  has  Nor- 
mandy and  William  England,  what  shall  I 


1 82  Feudal  Chateaux 

have?"  and  his  father  answered,  "Have  pa- 
patience,  and  it  may  so  chance  that  thou  have 
England  and  Normandy.  If  not,  patience  is 
best  of  all." 

My  lord  could  not  abide  that  the  word 
"  Bastard  "  should  be  written  after  the  name  of 
any  son  of  his,  and  Lanfranc,  having  the 
oiliest  tongue  amongst  us  all,  was  posted  off 
to  Rome  to  wheedle  the  Pope,  which  he  did 
to  such  purpose  that  his  Holiness  declared  the 
excommunication  off  and  the  marriage  sound 
if  the  Duke  would  build  an  abbey  for  holy 
monks,  and  the  Duchess  one  for  nuns.  This 
was  exactly  to  their  mind,  for,  as  I  have  said, 
they  had  each  a  passion  for  building.  Lan- 
franc had  brought  back  with  him  some  draw- 
ings of  churches  in  Rome,  and  Gundulph  was 
sent  to  see  the  abbey  church  of  Cluny, 
thought  to  be  the  best  in  France,  while  I 
brought  out  the  plans  and  studies  I  had  made 
in  Paris.  Our  buildings  were  mostly  of  rough 
stone,  whose  wide,  uneven  joints  were  filled  in 
with  plaster,  with  much  use  of  timber.  There 
was  hardly  a  stone-vaulted  ceiling  in  all  Nor- 
mandy ;  the  roofs  were  of  wood,  pointed  like  a 
hat,  and  raftered  within.  But  now  there  was  a 
great  improvement,  and  fair  round  arches  grew 
to  barrel  vaulting,  and  that  to  groined  vaulting. 


A  Fool's  Errands  183 

Gundulph  chose  Caen  for  the  site  of  the 
abbeys,  because  the  stone  of  Calvados  was 
fine,  and  there  was  an  abundance  of  it.  My 
lord  sent  for  stone-cutters  and  masons,  and  he 
built  not  alone  the  Abbey  aux  Hommes  to 
St.  Stephen,  over  which  he  made  Lanfranc 
abbot  (saying,  "  This  honour  shalt  thou  have 
now  and  a  greater  hereafter  "),  and  the  Abbey 
of  Holy  Trinity  for  virgins  nobly  born,  but 
here  at  Caen  he  built  also  a  greater  castle 
than  that  of  Falaise,  to  be  his  palace. 

My  lady  had  spent  long  hours  at  the  ora- 
tory beseeching  a  blessing  on  Lanfranc's 
errand,  and  when  he  returned  successful  she 
had  a  softer,  gayer  look  than  I  had  ever  seen 
in  her  face,  and  she  said  to  me,  "  Now  that 
this  curse  of  Mauger's  is  removed,  we  shall  be 
happy." 

But  it  was  not  Mauger's  curse  which  had 
made  the  trouble  at  first ;  and  my  lord  had 
been  so  used  to  seeing  her  cold  and  stately, 
never  failing  in  any  wifely  duty,  but  treating 
him  ever  with  calm  indifference,  that  he  did 
not  mark  the  flutter  of  hope  in  her  face,  and 
it  presently  died  out  as  he  grew  more  and 
more  absorbed  in  his  building.  His  construc- 
tions at  Caen  were  not  the  only  ones,  for  he 
built  a  chain  of  fortresses  on  the  coast,  and 


1 84  Feudal  Chateaux 

made  the  harbours  more  commodious,  and 
built  a  great  pier  at  Cherbourg ;  and  the 
overseeing  of  these  works,  together  with  the 
repulsing  of  two  invasions  and  the  conquering 
of  the  county  of  Maine,  necessitated  many 
long  journeys,  so  that  he  was  much  from 
home. 

But  at  last  this  was  all  over,  and  we  had 
forsaken  the  old  castle  of  Falaise  and  were  set- 
tled in  Caen.  And  now  that  there  seemed 
nothing  to  be  done  for  the  strengthening  of 
his  kingdom  of  Normandy,  one  would  have 
thought  that  my  lord  might  have  taken  pleas- 
ure in  his  home ;  but  it  was  not  to  be.  He 
looked  on  his  wife's  love  for  their  son  Robert 
with  a  sort  of  jealousy,  and  whenever  Robert 
kissed  his  mother  he  would  stride  from  the 
room.  Idleness  irked  him  also,  and  he  grew 
moody  and  irritable.  My  mistress  saw  this, 
and  strove  to  interest  him  with  changes  in  the 
castle,  making  it  still  more  lordly  or  stronger 
in  its  defences,  and  any  of  us  who  could  devise 
such  changes  were  bidden  to  lay  them  before 
him.  It  was  then  that  Lanfranc  told  of  a  vil- 
lainous contrivance  that  he  had  heard  of  in 
Italy  in  the  way  of  a  prison  dungeon,  being 
a  very  grewsome  well  or  pit,  into  which  pris- 
oners were  lowered  with  ropes  never  to  be 


A  Fool's  Errands  185 

taken  out  again,  or  into  which  they  were  let 
fall  by  the  dropping  of  the  floor,  trap-door- 
wise,  from  a  fair  guest-room  in  the  tower 
above,  the  machinery  being  operated  (when 
the  guest  was  well  within)  from  without  the 
door  like  the  hoisting  and  lowering  of  a 
drawbridge. 

"And  how  call  you  so  devilish  a  contri- 
trivance  ?  "  asked  my  lady. 

"  It  is  called  an  oubliette,  Sweetheart,"  said 
my  lord ;  "  the  word  cometh  from  oublier  (to 
forget).  By  God's  death,  it  were  a  handy 
thing  to  have  such  a  pit,  well  garnished  with 
knives,  beneath  a  sweetly  furnished  chamber ! 
Then  if  any  guest  chanced  to  come  who  had 
offended  us  past  forgiveness,  we  could  easily 
there  forget  both  sin  and  sinner." 

But  my  lady  cried,  "That  were  treachery, 
my  lord.  Let  the  transgressor  suffer  his 
doom  either  in  battle  or  in  open  judgment, 
but  let  there  be  no  murder  in  our  house." 

My  lord  knew  that  she  was  right,  and  there 
was  no  oubliette  of  this  sort  made  in  our  castle, 
nor  in  all  Normandy  save  at  Alengon,  but  he 
answered  her  roughly  then,  and  many  times 
thereafter.  Coming  in  suddenly  one  morning 
I  found  her  sobbing  alone,  and,  when  I  asked 
what  ailed  her,  in  the  distraction  of  her  grief 


1 86  Feudal  Chateaux 

she  replied,  "  Thou  canst  see  well  enough, 
Turold,  that  my  lord  loves  me  not.  Sweet 
Saviour  !  what  is  it  that  he  lacks  in  me  ?  " 

"  Naught,  dear  lady,"  I  protested,  not  know- 
ing what  I  said,  I  was  so  distraught  by  the 
sight  of  her  grief.  "  I  have  heard  him  declare 
you  perfect.  And  I  know  that  other  than 
you,  he  hath  never  loved  woman.  It  may  be 
that  he  is  brooding  over  great  enterprises,  for 
such  a  man  as  he  can  never  have  enough  of 
them." 

"  Think  you  so,  Turold  ?  "  she  cried.  "  Then 
I  must  make  myself  a  part  of  his  ambition, 
and  not  hold  him  back  from  it." 

From  that  time  she  began  to  set  his  mind 
again  on  the.  heirship  of  the  English  crown. 
Edward  the  Confessor  was  now  an  old  man 
and  childless  ;  and  Duke  William  by  his  mar- 
riage had  strengthened  his  pretensions.  The 
Duchess  therefore  persuaded  her  husband  to 
visit  his  relative,  and  she  begged  to  be  taken 
with  him  ;  but  to  this  the  Duke  would  not 
consent,  and  her  very  desire  wakened  unjust 
suspicions  in  his  heart.  I  found  him  walking 
alone  and  talking  to  himself.  "  Why  should 
she  wish  to  go  to  England,  since  Brihtric 
Meaw  is  there,  and  she  swore  to  me  long  since 
that  her  love  for  him  was  dead  ?  " 


A  Fool's  Errands  187 

"  Please  you,  my  master,"  I  made  bold  to 
say,  "  it  is  for  that  very  reason  that  my  mis- 
tress would  show  this  man  what  a  great  mar- 
riage she  has  made,  and  what  a  fair  husband 
she  hath,  for  it  is  but  the  nature  of  women  as 
well  as  men  to  triumph  over  them  who  have 
done  them  despite." 

"Thou  art  right,  Turold,"  the  Duke  cried, 
"  and  by  the  splendour  of  God  (it  was  a  great 
oath  and  his  favourite)  she  shall  have  her 
triumph,  but  not  now,  since  I  go  as  a  sup- 
pliant ;  nevertheless  she  shall  have  her  fill  of 
triumph  in  good  time." 

So  Duke  William  went  to  England,  and  the 
King  received  him  well  and  made  him  many 
fair  promises,  for  he  was  old  and  cared  not 
what  strife  there  was  for  the  kingship  after 
him,  so  there  was  peace  while  he  lived. 
Harold,  who  stood  nearer  the  throne  and 
held  himself  the  rightful  heir,  looked  on  this 
intimacy  with  suspicion,  nevertheless  he  was 
outwardly  friendly.  So,  after  the  Duke  had 
returned,  he  had  him  to  visit  us  at  Caen. 
This  was  the  Duchess's  plan, — "  For,"  said  she, 
"we  will  gain  the  kingship  by  alliance  and 
friendly  treaty  if  we  can,  but  if  courtesy  fails 
then  thou  shalt  have  thy  way." 

All  men  know  what  came  of  that  visit,  and 


1 88  Feudal  Chateaux 

that  Duke  William  told  Harold,  while  hunting 
with  him,  of  his  design  of  claiming  the  Eng- 
lish crown  on  the  death  of  Edward,  and  that 
Harold  not  only  privately  promised  the  Duke, 
but  took  the  most  solemn  oaths  before  his 
lords  to  support  his  claim.  As  Harold  was  in 
his  host's  power  when  he  made  this  treaty, 
my  master  had  no  great  confidence  in  his 
good  faith,  and  my  mistress  counselled  him  to 
make  it  to  Harold's  interest  to  keep  his  oath. 
My  lord  therefore  bade  him  choose  a  bride 
among  his  daughters,  promising  that  he  should 
be  his  son-in-law  and  heir  to  England,  and  that 
he  would  provide  for  his  sons  in  Normandy. 
The  Duke's  daughters  were  a  fair  garland  of 
sweet  flowers,  whereof  Cicely,  the  eldest,  was 
fair  and  stately  as  a  lily.  She  had  been  con- 
secrated at  her  birth  to  the  Church,  and  later 
became  abbess  of  Holy  Trinity.  She  was 
then  at  home,  but  the  shadow  of  her  approach- 
ing separation  from  her  family  rested  upon 
her  and  kept  her  constantly  at  her  mother's 
side.  The  others  were  but  little  girls,  and 
whereas  I  was  of  diminutive  stature  they 
thought  me  a  child,  and  treated  me  ever  as 
one  of  themselves.  I  played  with  them,  and 
taught  them,  and  little  by  little  as  they  over- 
topped me  in  stature  they  looked  down  upon 


A  Fool's  Errands  189 

me  in  more  ways  than  that,  and  though  ever 
kind,  never  gave  me  credit  for  having  the  feel- 
ings of  a  man.  Agatha  was  the  beauty  and 
rose  of  them  all,  and  next  in  age  to  Cicely. 

There  came  other  wooers  at  this  time : 
young  Stephen,  Earl  of  Blois,  and  Alan  Fer- 
geant,  Earl  of  Brittany,  whom,  though  he  was 
older  than  himself,  Duke  William  was  glad  to 
have  for  his  son-in-law,  both  because  he  owed 
him  much  for  keeping  his  duchy  for  him  dur- 
ing his  minority,  and  because  he  could  render 
him  the  same  and  other  service  while  he 
was  absent  in  England.  Agatha  could  have 
had  either  of  these  lovers,  or  another  whose 
love  she  never  suspected,  but  to  whom  she 
confided  her  secrets,  sure  of  his  sympathy  and 
loyalty,  who  tore  his  hair  and  beat  his  breast 
at  night  and  all  but  cursed  his  Maker  who  had 
given  him  a  man's  eyes  and  a  man's  heart  in 
a  pigmy  body. 

But  Agatha  mocked  at  the  Earl  of  Brittany 
as  a  grandsire,  and  the  Earl  of  Blois  as  a 
dullard,  so  that  these  were  fain  to  content 
themselves  later  on  with  her  sisters  Constance 
and  Adela,  for  the  blue  eyes  and  yellow  hair 
of  the  Saxon  Harold  had  made  an  even  deeper 
impression  upon  Agatha  than  the  same  blond 
beauty  of  Brihtric  had  upon  her  mother.  He 


1 90  Feudal  Chateaux 

was  a  young  prince  of  haughty  demeanour, 
and  he  dressed  in  the  fantastic  fashion  of  the 
Saxons,  his  beard  shorn  all  but  his  upper  lip, 
and  his  arms  laden  with  golden  bracelets  and 
pictured  with  figures  pounced  in  the  fair  skin. 
Though  a  barbarian  there  was  something  he- 
roic about  him  which  caught  the  young  girl's 
fancy.  It  was  doubtless  but  to  insure  his  own 
safety,  that  he  made  some  show  of  affection 
for  his  betrothed,  and  would  hold  the  skeins 
of  silk  that  she  wound,  and  watch  the  slender 
form  droop  over  the  tapestry  frame  on  which 
she  embroidered  his  likeness.  As  she  painted 
thus  with  her  needle  she  often  looked  at  him 
very  fixedly,  and  on  one  such  occasion  he 
asked  her  the  meaning  of  her  gaze. 

"  I  am  trying  to  look  through  your  eyes  into 
your  soul,"  she  answered  ;  "  but  all  is  not  open 
and  clear  there.  You  do  not  love  me,  Harold, 
and  something  tells  me  that  you  will  forget  the 
promises  made  upon  French  soil." 

But  Harold  took  her  hand  in  his  and  swore  : 
"  I  will  be  as  true  as  the  stars.  When  you  see 
one  of  them  wandering  among  the  fixed  con- 
stellations, then  Harold  will  wander  from  his 
love.  When  one  of  heaven's  steadfast  lights 
flies  away  from  its  place,  nevermore  to  return 
to  its  shining  companions,  then  you  may  doubt 


A  Fool's  Errands  191 

that  Harold  will  return.  Dry  your  tears,  my 
Agatha,  for  I  will  be  true — as  true  as  the 
stars." 

Then  Harold  went  his  way,  and  the  days 
that  followed  were  long  and  lonely  for  Ag- 
atha. Her  brother  Robert  reproached  her, 
for  his  father  had  forced  him  to  relinquish  to 
Harold  any  claim  that  future  events  might 
give  him  to  the  heirship  of  England. 

"  Thou  shalt  have  Normandy,  Robert,  and 
thou  shalt  wed  the  heiress  of  the  Duke  of 
Maine,  and  that,"  said  the  Duke,  "  must  con- 
tent thee." 

But  Robert  was  not  content,  and  he  visited 
his  displeasure  upon  his  sister,  until  Edward 
the  Confessor  died,  and  Harold,  repudiating 
his  promises  to  William  of  Normandy  and  to 
Agatha,  caused  himself  to  be  proclaimed  King 
of  England,  and  married  Edyth,  widow  of  the 
King  of  Wales. 

When  my  lord  received  this  news  he  could 
not  speak  for  wrath,  but  stood  tying  and  unty- 
ing the  cordon  of  his  cloak  ;  but  my  mistress's 
words  came  easily  enough,  and  her  indigna- 
tion was  greater  for  the  affront  put  upon  her 
daughter  than  that  Harold  had  seized  the 
crown  from  her  husband.  My  lord  could  not 
fail  to  mark  this,  and  he  understood  that  his 


192  Feudal  Chateaux 

wife  endured  again  the  bitterness  of  her  own 
rejection. 

"I  should  have  known,"  she  cried,  "that  it 
is  not  possible  for  a  Saxon  to  love,  or  hold 
faith.  Would  that  there  had  been  an  oubliette 
beneath  his  couch  !  then  would  he  never  have 
departed  from  this  house." 

This  she  said  in  the  first  frenzy  of  her 
anger,  but  her  husband  gave  more  weight  to 
her  words  than  he  should,  and  they  rankled  in 
his  heart,  while  his  face  grew  fixed  with  an 
awful  purpose. 

"  My  wife  and  daughter  shall  be  avenged," 
he  said  to  me ;  "  't  is  not  alone  for  ambition 
that  I  would  conquer  England  now.  I  have 
had  a  look  into  my  wife's  heart,  and  at  last  I 
understand  her." 

"  Then,"  said  I,  "  now  that  you  know  you 
have  the  love  of  such  a  heart,  methinks  you 
should  count  yourself  richer  than  if  England 
were  already  yours." 

But  his  face  grew  grey.  "  Her  love,  Turold, 
is  what  I  shall  never  have.  I  deceived  myself — 
she  never  pretended  to  love  me ;  I  hoped  it 
might  come,  but  she  has  no  capacity  left 
for  loving.  All  the  passion  that  was  in  her 
soul  she  gave  to  Brihtric  Meaw.  It  is  his  still, 
but  turned  to  hate,  which  is  but  the  rebound  and 


A  Fool's  Errands  193 

other  side  of  love.  For  me  she  has  only 
friendship.  For  me — who  am  eaten  through 
and  through  with  love  of  her.  God's  death  !  if 
she  but  cared  enough  for  me  to  hate  me  as 
she  hates  that  man !  But  if  I  were  false  to 
her  she  would  smile  as  coldly  as  ever.  Still  I 
must  thank  her  hate  ;  it  is  to  that  I  owe  that  I 
have  her  at  all." 

"  That  is  a  hard  riddle,"  I  made  answer. 

"  Did  you  not  tell  me  when  you  came  from 
wooing  her  for  me,  that  Guy  had  told  her 
falsely  of  my  savagery  to  certain  of  my  prison- 
ers, how  I  had  caused  them  to  be  flayed  alive, 
and  that  at  that  word  she  cried,  '  He  who  could 
so  punish  his  mother's  traducers,  would  in 
like  manner  avenge  an  insult  to  his  wife '  ?  It 
was  for  this  she  married  me,  Turold,  not  for 
love,  but  for  revenge.  All  these  years  she  has 
waited  for  it,  and  it  is  no  wonder  that  she 
despises  me  for  a  laggard  and  a  coward.  She 
longed  to  be  Lady  of  Gloucester ;  she  shall 
be  that,  and  Queen  of  England  too,  and 
Brihtric  of  the  Snow  shall  lie  whiter  and  colder 
than  ever  when  I  tie  the  keys  of  his  castle 
to  her  chatelaine.  But  look  you,  Turold,  that 
she  know  not  that  I  have  guessed  her  secret. 
She  would  think  I  married  her  from  com- 
passion, whereas  she  desired  love  and  has  had 


194  Feudal  Chateaux 

it.  It  may  be  that  the  knowledge  of  this  may 
have  been  some  small  solace  to  her,  as  it  is  my 
fierce  happiness  to  serve." 

I  was  powerless  to  make  my  lord  under- 
stand matters  other  than  in  this  warped  fashion, 
and  indeed  I  had  little  opportunity  for  coming 
at  him,  for  now  he  was  taken  up  with  prepara- 
tions for  the  invasion  of  England.  He  called  to- 
gether the  quens  and  told  them  of  his  project. 
At  first  they  were  not  wholly  minded  to  the 
enterprise,  for  they  feared  the  sea,  and  were 
not  bound  by  their  feudal  tenure  to  serve  be- 
yond it ;  but  Bishop  Odo  set  the  example  and 
Fitz  Osborn  so  wrought  upon  them  by  pictur- 
ing the  Saxon  spoils  and  honours  which  would 
be  theirs,  that  they  not  only  consented  to  pass 
overseas  but  to  double  their  accustomed  hom- 
age, so  that  he  who  was  bound  to  furnish 
twenty  men-at-arms  promised  forty,  and  he 
who  owed  an  hundred  agreed  to  furnish  forth 
two.  The  Duke  was  not  satisfied  with  what 
he  could  raise  in  his  own  dominion,  but  he  in- 
vited his  neighbours  the  Bretons,  the  Angevins, 
and  the  men  of  Boulogne  to  join  his  banner, 
the  Earl  of  Flanders  coming  forward  as  he  had 
agreed  with  supplies  of  men  and  ships.  This 
was  not  for  the  sake  of  his  daughter  Mathilde 
alone,  but  because  his  other  daughter  had 


A  Fool's  Errands  195 

married  Tostig,  the  brother  of  Harold,  and  this 
Tostig  had  been  shut  out  by  Harold  from 
his  Northumbrian  earldom,  and  was  now 
waging  war  on  the  north  coast  of  England, 
having  secured  the  aid  of  the  King  of  Nor- 
way. 

Our  Duchess  was  of  great  assistance  in 
cementing  a  league  with  her  family,  for  she 
took  great  interest  in  the  invasion.  She  also 
caused  to  be  built  from  her  private  coffers,  and 
as  a  surprise  to  her  husband,  a  splendid  vessel 
of  war,  which  he  made  the  flagship  of  his  fleet. 
The  Duke  had  even  sought  to  make  an  ally 
of  the  King  of  France,  who  made  sport  of 
the  scheme,  asking  him  with  some  significance, 
"  Who  would  take  care  of  his  duchy  while  he 
was  running  on  such  a  fool's  errand  ? "  To 
which  half-disguised  threat  Duke  William  had 
replied,  "  That  is  a  care  that  shall  not  need  to 
trouble  our  neighbours ;  by  the  grace  of  God 
we  are  blessed  with  a  prudent  wife  and  loving 
subjects,  who  will  keep  our  border  securely 
during  our  absence." 

The  King  of  Spain  was  more  friendly,  for 
he  sent  aid  and  a  present  for  the  Duke,  a 
magnificent  horse  royally  caparisoned,  and  he 
desired  an  alliance  in  case  the  Duke  was  suc- 
cessful in  this  venture  ;  the  Pope  also  sent  him 


196  Feudal  Chateaux 

a  splendid  banner  which  he  had  blessed.  The 
design  upon  this  banner  was  a  comet  embroid- 
ered in  gold,  with  the  legend,  "Nova  Stella 
Novus  Rex"  for  about  this  time  a  wonder  had 
appeared  in  the  heavens  which  was  thought  to 
augur  success  to  the  Normans,  and  indeed 

o 

had  been  foretold  by  Saxon  seers  in  rude 
rhyme  : 

"  In  the  year  ten  hundred  and  sixty-six 
A  comet  an  end  to  the  Saxon  shall  fix." 

There  was  one  who  looked  upon  this  comet 
with  other  significance.  Agatha  was  standing 
at  a  window  looking  away  toward  England 
when  it  flashed  like  a  scimitar  across  the  star- 
lit sky.  When  she  saw  it  she  fell  in  a  faint, 
and  when  I  brought  her  to  herself  with  chaf- 
ing of  her  hands,  she  murmured,  "  Harold 
hath  broken  no  promise  to  me,  for  his  star 
wandereth."  Full  gladly  would  I  have  con- 
soled her  stricken  heart  with  my  love,  but  she 
was  smitten  too  sorely.  I  knew  also  that 
though  the  Duke  felt  that  he  owed  me  much, 
in  that  I  had  not  hesitated  to  go  upon  two  of 
his  most  important  errands,  and  had  both 
saved  his  life  and  won  for  him  his  bride,  yet 
was  he  too  proud  a  man  to  suffer  his  daughter 
to  wed  so  meanly.  Therefore  I  kept  silence, 


A  Fool's  Errands  197 

striving  to  attain  to  that  state  which  Arlette 
told  us  was  best  of  all,  namely,  the  love  which 
asks  no  love  in  return,  and  no  recompense  but 
the  good  of  that  it  loves. 

No  sooner  had  the  expedition  departed 
than  tapestry  frames  were  set  up  in  the  great 
hall  of  the  castle  and  our  Duchess  gathered 
her  ladies  to  beguile  the  absence  of  their  kins- 
men by  embroidering  all  the  history  of  the 
Conquest.  It  was  a  great  undertaking,  but 
there  were  many  hands,  and  as  fast  as  we  had 
tidings  I  made  a  picture  of  what  had  befallen, 
and  from  this  the  dames  took  their  patterns. 
It  was  thus  that  our  Duchess  fulfilled  her 
promise  to  her  husband  and  to  Bishop  Odo, 
for  she  made  the  Duke  her  hero  and  depicted 
his  exploits  instead  of  those  of  Caesar;  and 
she  planned  the  tapestry  of  sufficient  length 
(230  feet)  to  compass  the  nave  of  Bayeux 
Cathedral,  thus  greatly  contenting  the  Bishop 
with  this  magnificent  gift.  There  are  in  this 
tapestry  upwards  of  1400  figures,  of  which  623 
are  men  and  women,  762  are  animals,  37  cas- 
tles, and  41  ships.  These  figures  were  com- 
bined in  72  pictures,  separated  from  each  other 
by  trees,  and  described  by  Latin  inscriptions, 
beginning  with  a  view  of  Harold  taking  leave 
of  Edward  the  Confessor  before  his  departure 


198  Feudal  Chateaux 

for  Normandy,  and  showing  the  events  of  his 
visit  in  Normandy.  Among  these  was  an  attack 
which  my  lord  made  upon  a  castle  in  Brittany, 
to  reach  which  we  crossed  the  treacherous 
sands  of  St.  Michel,  where  Harold  rescued 
two  men,  pulling  them  from  the  quicksand.1 
It  was  Agatha's  will  that  this  honourable  deed 
of  his  should  be  commemorated,  and  she 
wrought  it  with  her  own  hand,  leaving  to 
others  the  task  of  depicting  his  treachery  in 
accepting  the  crown  of  England. 

We  had  laboured  thus  far  when  a  galley 
brought  the  news  of  the  battle  of  Hastings 
and  the  death  of  Harold ;  and  that  our  lord 
was  to  be  known  no  longer  as  Duke  William 
of  Normandy,  but  as  William  the  Conqueror, 
King  of  England.  From  that  time  the  work 
on  the  tapestry  galloped  joyfully,  save  that 
one  seat,  that  of  the  Lady  Agatha,  was  vacant, 
for  she  was  ill  of  a  fever.  So  other  hands 
embroidered  the  appearance  of  the  comet,  the 
council  of  the  Norman  chiefs  presided  over 
by  Bishop  Odo  concerning  the  invasion,  and 
all  the  details  brought  us  by  the  messengers 
of  the  disembarkation  of  our  men  in  England, 

1  This  panel  of  the  tapestry  bears  the  inscription,  "  Hie  Harold 
dux  traherat  eos  de  arena."  The  rather  comical  representation  of 
Mont  St.  Michel  in  the  background  is  the  oldest  existing  picture  of 
the  castle.  In  another  panel  appears  a  portrait  of  Turold. 


A  Fool's  Errands  199 

the  march  to  Hastings,  the  formation  of  a 
camp,  and  setting  up  of  the  wooden  castle 
which  Gundulph  made  in  Normandy  and 
which  was  carried  over  in  pieces. 

Most  admirable  of  all  was  the  battle  itself, 
with  the  onset  of  the  English,  the  shower  of 
darts  hurtling  against  the  shields  and  the 
bright  mail  of  the  Norman  horsemen,  the 
wounded  and  the  dying  lying  in  piteous  state 
and  trampled  beneath  the  hoofs  of  the  horses. 
All  of  the  chief  personages  were  most  careful 
portraits,  and  among  these  our  lady,  whom 
now  I  must  call  la  reine  Mathilde,  would  have 
it  that  I  should  make  one  of  my  insignific- 
ance. 

My  lord  had  much  further  righting  in  Eng- 
and  to  thoroughly  take  the  land,  and  to  keep 
that  he  gained,  all  of  which  he  effected  with  as 
much  wisdom  as  valour ;  instituting  good  laws 
and  providing  for  their  thorough  execution,  in 
which  difficult  undertaking  he  far  exceeded 
even  Caesar  himself.  So  soon  as  the  country 
was  pacified  he  had  his  wife  come  to  England, 
with  a  magnificent  train  of  noblemen  and 
ladies,  to  be  crowned  at  Winchester.  So 
great  a  pageant  had  never  been  seen  before  in 
the  kingdom,  both  at  the  church  and  at  the 
great  banquet  at  the  castle,  where  the  King 


200  Feudal  Chateaux 

caused  the  Queen  to  create  many  new  offices 
and  to  bestow  benefices,  thus  adding  to  her 
power  and  popularity,  and  signifying  that  she 
reigned  in  equal  sovereignty  with  himself. 
Among  the  offices  then  created  for  all  future 
coronations  was  that  of  the  "  Championship." 
The  King  had  ordained  that  a  handsome 
young  cavalier,  Marmion  of  Fontenaye,  should 
ride  into  the  great  banqueting-hall,  and  having 
curveted  around  the  table,  repeat  three  times 
this  challenge  :  "  If  any  person  denies  that  our 
most  gracious  sovereign,  Lord  William,  and 
his  spouse  Mathilde  are  King  and  Queen  of 
England,  he  is  a  false-hearted  traitor  and  liar ; 
and  here  I  as  Champion  do  challenge  him  to 
single  combat."  No  person  accepted  this 
challenge,  though  there  were  many  Saxon 
chiefs  in  the  hall,  and  the  King  had  made 
proclamation  that  any  who  wished  should 
be  provided  with  horse  and  armour  and  be 
given  a  fair  field.  Among  those  who  heard 
this  challenge  was  a  prisoner  who  had  been 
closely  guarded  in  the  dungeons  of  Winchester 
since  his  capture,  Brihtric  Meaw,  Thane  of 
Gloucester.  For  a  moment  he  drew  himself 
up  and  looked  at  the  knight,  and  in  that 
instant  my  lord's  hand  sought  his  sword. 
"  By  the  splendour  of  God,  "  I  heard  him  say, 


A  Fool's  Errands  201 

"  if  he  accept  the  challenge,  not  Marmion  but 
I  will  fight  him  in  this  presence."  But  the 
Thane's  spirit  was  broken  and  he  crawled 
forward  on  his  knees  and  submitted  the  keys 
of  Gloucester,  which  my  lord  fastened,  as  he 
had  promised,  to  his  wife's  chatelaine,  saying 
that  the  life  of  the  prisoner  was  in  her  hands. 
Whereat  she  made  answer  indifferently  that 
his  life  or  death  had  long  ceased  to  be  matter 
of  interest  to  her,  and  that  she  desired  never 
to  see  nor  hear  mention  of  him  more.  Where- 
upon a  great  light  flashed  across  my  lord's 
face,  and  he  bade  them  let  the  prisoner  go  free  ; 
but  that  he  should  leave  the  kingdom  and 
take  some  other  name,  so  that  his  wife's  wish 
might  be  regarded.  And  as  few  heard  this 
order,  and  naught  was  known  of  Brihtric  there- 
after, the  report  went  out  that  he  had  been 
slain  in  his  dungeon,  and  privately  buried. 
My  lord  was  very  happy  after  this,  for  the 
suspicions  and  torments  of  eighteen  years  were 
lifted  from  his  mind,  for  he  knew  that  if  the 
Queen  had  not  hated  Brihtric  to  the  death,  as 
he  had  imagined,  then  she  had  never  deeply 
loved  him  either.  So  at  last  his  heart  was 
gay,  and  he  was  so  merry  that  he  distributed 
largesse  on  every  hand,  and  made  many  whim- 
sical and  merry  honours  ;  among  others  that  of 


202  Feudal  Chateaux 

the  "  Grand  Panetier, "  who  bore  the  salt  and 
bread  from  the  pantry,  which  was  done  grace- 
fully on  this  occasion  by  a  page  called  Beau- 
champs,  to  whom  he  gave  the  salt-cellars, 
knives,  and  spoons  which  he  had  laid  on  the 
table,  together  with  a  fair  manor.  To  the 
cook  also,  who  tickled  his  palate  with  a  Nor- 
man soup,  he  gave  the  manor  of  Addington. 

So  it  was  a  great  day,  and  a  joyful  one,  and 
my  lord's  heart  was  at  rest,  for  at  last  he 
knew  without  doubt  that  his  wife  loved  him. 
While  she  was  in  England  they  planned 
together  seventeen  great  castles,  among  which 
were  the  Tower  of  London,  Dover,  and 
Rochester  in  Kent,  Newcastle  in  Northumber- 
land, Appleby  and  Carlisle  in  Cumberland, 
Brougham  in  Westmoreland,  Richmond  and 
Conisborough  in  Yorkshire,  Porchester  in 
Hampshire,  Guildford  in  Surrey,  Goodrich 
in  Herefordshire,  Norwich  and  Castle  Rising 
in  Norfolk,  and  Hedingham  and  Colchester 
in  Essex.  Roger  Montgomery,  also,  who  had 
been  foremost  among  his  followers,  he  made 
Earl  of  Arundel  and  Shrewsbury,  and  for  him 
named  a  great  shire.  He  was  a  good  man 
though  his  wife  was  evil. 

But  the  governance  of  two  kingdoms  is  not 
an  easy  thing,  so  that  my  lord  and  lady  were 


A  Fool's  Errands  203 

much  separated  in  their  later  life ;  he  govern- 
ing in  England  and  she  in  Normandy,  where 
she  was  greatly  beloved.  Her  favourite  re- 
sidence was  ever  the  castle  of  Caen,  and  there 
she  had  ever  near  her  her  daughter  Cicely, 
the  Abbess  of  Holy  Trinity.  This  abbey  the 
Queen  loved  dearly,  bestowing  upon  it  the 
lands  which  had  belonged  to  Brihtric  Meaw, 
which  the  King  had  given  her,  and  many 
other  rich  gifts  of  embroidered  mantles  and 
robes  to  be  made  into  vestments,  and  silver 
plate ;  and  all  these  bequests  were  made  with 
the  consent  of  the  King.  Save  that  he  still 
thought  her  love  for  their  son  Robert  over- 
weening, there  never  came  cloud  betwixt  them, 
nor  was  I  ever  separated  from  service  to 
my  sweet  lady  but  on  one  dolorous  errand, 
which  fell  out  in  this  wise  :  The  Lady  Agatha 
greatly  desired  to  become  a  nun,  but  this  her 
father  would  in  no  wise  suffer,  saying  that  the 
Church  had  its  full  tithe  and  more  in  Cicely. 
Therefore  when  the  King  of  Spain  plead 
the  promised  alliance,  he  betrothed  Agatha 
to  Alonzo  of  Galicia.  Agatha  besought  her 
father  with  tears  not  to  force  her  to  wed  this 
Prince,  but  he  was  not  to  be  turned  from  his 
purpose.  Her  mother  also  chid  the  maid 
gently,  telling  her  her  own  story,  how  she 


204  Feudal  Chateaux 

had  deemed  in  her  youth  that  she  loved 
another,  whereas  it  was  but  the  romantic  va- 
pouring of  a  girl's  mind.  I  was  deputed  with 
others  to  take  this  most  reluctant  bride  to  her 
bridegroom.  All  the  way  she  prayed  that  the 
Most  High  would  take  her  to  Himself  before 
she  should  be  transported  to  Spain,  so  that 
my  heart  was  torn  within  me.  We  journeyed 
very  slowly,  on  account  of  her  feebleness  and 
sadness,  and  her  prayers  were  answered,  for 
God  granted  her  a  virgin  death  before  we 
reached  the  frontier.  Returning  with  her  lit- 
tle body,  we  buried  it  with  many  tears  in 
Bayeux,  in  the  Church  of  St.  Mary  the  Per- 
petual Virgin. 

Our  noble  Queen  died  also  about  this  time, 
at  her  castle  at  Caen.  As  she  felt  her  end 
approaching  she  notified  her  husband,  who 
hastened  to  her  overseas,  and  was  with  her  at 
her  death.  He  would  not  allow  the  sapphire 
ring  which  he  had  given  her  to  be  taken 
from  her  finger,  and  caused  her  to  be  buried 
with  great  solemnity  as  befits  a  good  queen, 
in  the  church  of  the  Abbey  of  Holy  Trinity, 
which  she  had  founded.  Sorrowing  exceed- 
ingly he  caused  to  be  traced  upon  her  mag- 
nificent tomb,  in  letters  of  gold,  these  words 
in  fair  Latin : 


A  Fool's  Errands  205 

"  Here  rests  within  this  fair  and  stately  tomb, 
Matilda,  scion  of  a  regal  line  ; 
The  Flemish  duke  her  sire,  and  Adelais 
Her  mother,  to  great  Robert,  King  of  France, 
Daughter,  and  sister  to  his  royal  heir ; 
In  wedlock  to  our  mighty  William  joined. 
She  built  this  holy  temple,  and  endowed  " 
With  lands  and  goodly  gifts.     She,  the  true  friend 
Of  piety  and  soother  of  distress, 
Enriching  others,  indigent  herself, 
Reserving  all  her  treasures  for  the  poor ; 
And,  by  such  deeds  as  these,  she  merited 
To  be  partaker  of  eternal  life  : 
To  which  she  passed  Nov.  2,  1083." 

After  his  gentle  lady  died  my  master  never 
listened  to  quip  or  jest,  nor  could  I  have 
uttered  one  at  his  bidding,  for  our  hearts  were 
broken.  When,  to  hearten  him,  one  evening 
I  spoke  of  the  wonderful  success  of  his  great 
expedition  to  England,  and  the  glory  of  the 
coronation  at  Winchester,  he  smiled  and  said, 
"Yea,  Turold,  that  was  the  crowning  of  my 
life ;  but  had  I  not  then  learned  my  wife's 
love,  all  that  invasion  with  its  great  victories, 
yea,  and  my  whole  life,  would  have  been  but  a 
fool's  errand." 

After  a  stormy  evening  to  his  splendid  day 
they  laid  him  to  rest  (who  never  rested  before) 
in  his  Abbey  of  St.  Stephen,  where  I  have 
begged  that  I  too  may  be  buried,  like  a  faith- 


206  Feudal  Chateaux 

ful  hound  (his  little  monkey),  at  my  master's 
feet,  praying  that  this  last  quest  of  mine,  the 
search  for  Heaven,  be  not  like  the  other  illy 
accomplished  ventures  of  my  life,  the  errand 
of  a  Fool. 

And  whereas  many  slanderous  and  lying 
chronicles  have  been  written  of  my  dear  lord 
and  lady,  I,  than  whom  none  can  know  better, 
have  writ  out  this  story,  for  the  solace  and  at 
the  request  of  the  saintly  Abbess  of  Holy 
Trinity,  the  Lady  Cicely.  Given  at  the  Ab- 
bey of  St.  Stephen  in  Caen,  in  the  year  of  our 
redemption  1090,  by  Turold,  whilom  jester 
to  King  William,  now  lay  brother  and  illum- 
inator in  the  Scriptorium  of  the  Abbey.1 


Of  Queen  Mathilde  a  French  author  writing 
in  her  son's  reign  says  :  "  La  quele  jadis  quant 
for  pucelle  Aima  con  conte  d'Angleterre, 
Brihtric  Mau,  le  oi  nomer,  Apres  le  roi  ki  for 
riche  vir.  A  lui  la  pucell  envoica  messager  ; 

1  The  character  of  William  the  Conqueror  as  depicted  in  this 
imaginary  record  is  well  borne  out  by  history.  A  Saxon  scribe 
of  the  eleventh  century  is  quoted  by  Donald  G.  Mitchell  in 
his  English  Lands,  Letters,  and  Kings,  as  writing  :  "  King  William 
was  a  very  wise  man,  and  very  rich,  more  worshipful  and  strong 
than  any  of  his  foregangers.  He  was  mild  to  good  men  who 
loved  God,  and  stark  beyond  all  bounds  to  those  who  withsaid  his 
will.  Bishops  he  set  off  their  bishoprics,  abbots  off  their  abbotrics,  and 
Shanes  in  prison.  By  his  cunning  he  was  so  thoroughly  acquainted 


A  Fool's  Errands  207 

Par  sa  amour  a  lui  procurer;  mais  Brihtric 
Maude  refusa." 

As  I  finished  reading  the  MS.  a  letter  flut- 
tered from  the  last  pages.  It  was  addressed 
to  me  and  had  been  sent  in  care  of  the  nun. 
It  read  as  follows  : 

"  DEAR  FRIENDS  : 

"  You  must  come  to  Chateau  La  Joyeuse  before  you 
leave  our  part  of  France,  for  we  need  you  so  very  much. 
Something  so  strange  has  happened.  Something  at  once 
both  sad  and  sweet  in  its  consequences.  Unspeakably 
sad  it  is  for  my  dear  father,  but  you  can  help  him  to  bear 
it  with  your  republican  ideas  of  the  slight  worth  of  rank 
and  all  that  he  has  been  accustomed  to  hold  of  so  much 
importance.  He  does  not  know  how  far  France  has 
drifted  from  these  ideas.  Come  and  talk  with  him  for 
he  talks  with  no  one. 

'  //  ne  voit  ni  laics  ni  pretres, 
Ni  gentils  hommes,  ni  bourgeois 
Mais  les  portraits  de  ces  ancetres 
Causent  avec  lui  quelquefois. ' 

with  England,  that  there  is  not  a  horde  of  land  of  which  he  did  not 
know,  both  who  had  it  and  what  was  its  worth.  He  planted  a  great 
preserve  for  deer,  and  he  laid  down  laws  therewith,  that  whoever 
should  slay  hart  or  hind  should  be  blinded.  He  forbade  the  harts 
and  also  the  boars  to  be  Jailed.  As  greatly  did  he  love  the  tall  deer 
as  if  he  were  their  father.  Brytland  [Wales]  was  in  his  power,  and  he 
therein  wrought  castles  and  completely  ruled  over  that  race  of  men, — 
it  was  need  that  they  should  follow  the  King's  will,  if  they  wished  to 
live,  or  to  have  lands  or  goods.  Alas,  that  any  man  should  be  so 
moody,  and  should  so  puff  up  himself,  and  think  himself  above  all 
other  men  !  " 


208  Feudal  Chateaux 

"  What  have  I  said  ?  His  ancestors  are  the  last  persons 
whom  he  would  talk  with — but  I  cannot  explain  by  letter. 
Come,  and  come  at  once,  to  your  very  sad  and  yet  your 
most  blissful 

"  YSEULT." 


CHAPTER  V 

HAREBELLS  AND  BROOM 
A  GROUP  OF  PLANTAGENET  LEGENDS 

Old  slopes  of  pasture  ground 
Old  fosse,  and  moat  and  mound 

Where  the  mailed  warrior  and  crusader  came, 
Old  walls  of  crumbling  stone, 
Where  trails  the  snapdragon, 

Rise  at  the  speaking  of  the  harebell's  name. 

MARY  HOWITT. 

YSEULT'S  call  was  irresistible.     We  had 
planned  to  go  from  Normandy  straight  to 
Touraine,    but   we    could    not    pass    through 
Brittany  without  stopping  for  a  night  at  Ch£- 
teau  La  Joyeuse. 

Gamin  and  Farceur  were  at  the  station  and 
took  us  swiftly  across  the  forest  and  up  the 
hillside  to  the  dear  fortalice. 
14  209 


210  Feudal  Chateaux 

Yseult  met  us  at  the  door.  "  Thank  you  so 
much  for  coming,"  she  said  ;  "  my  father  thanks 
you  too.  You  will  find  him  sadly  changed." 

She  led  us  to  the  sunny  drawing-room, 
where  the  Vicomte  sat  in  a  wheeled  chair, 
wrapped  in  shawls  and  wearing  a  gown  faced 
with  fur  though  the  day  was  warm.  He 
extended  a  trembling  hand,  and  while  his 
face  was  lighted  with  momentary  pleasure  it 
showed  the  traces  of  great  physical  and  mental 
suffering. 

"  Sit  down,"  he  said,  waving  his  hand  to  a 
fauteuil  which  Finette  pushed  forward  ;  "  the 
Vicomtesse  will  be  in  immediately.  It  is  good 
to  see  you  here  again.  I  have  been  very  ill 
since  I  saw  you  last.  It  is  like  a  horrible 
dream.  Tell  me  of  your  wanderings.  Did 
you  find  much  to  interest  you  after  we  parted 
at  Angers  ?  " 

I  outlined  the  trip  and  found  him  most 
interested  in  Mont  St.  Michel,  and  the  cere- 
monial of  the  disgrace  of  Oliver  de  Bellesmes. 
His  thin  hand  clenched  on  his  chair  and  he 
lifted  his  head  more  proudly  as  I  went  on, 
until  at  the  end  he  drew  a  long  sigh  and  it  fell 
forward  as  though  oppressed  by  thought. 

"  And  yet,"  he  said  after  a  pause,  "  in  spite 
of  that  ceremony  of  degradation,  I  am  prouder 


Harebells  and  Broom  211 

of  Oliver  Talvas  de  Bellesmes  than  of  any 
other  ancestor  of  my  house." 

"  Was  he  your  ancestor  ?  "  I  cried,  chagrined 
that  I  had  probed  an  old  wound.  "  Forgive 
me ;  I  would  not  have  told  you  all  this  if  I  had 
known." 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  have  refreshed  my 
memory  ;  his  example  will  strengthen  me  for  an 
act  of  renunciation.  His  wife  died  before  his 
disgrace  and  he  left  his  infant  son  in  the  charge 
of  her  relatives,  refusing  his  sister's  offer  to 
bring  him  up.  I  believed  until  recently  that  I 
was  descended  from  him  through  my  great- 
grandmother,  but  I  shall  be  more  worthy  of 
him  if  I  disclaim  the  honour  I  have  prized 
so  long.  After  his  disgrace  he  wandered  to 
the  Holy  Land  as  a  pilgrim  on  foot,  with  a 
halter  around  his  neck.  He  never  came  back, 
nor  could  his  son  find  trace  of  him.  It  was 
that  son  whose  portrait  Yseult  showed  you. 
He  followed  Godfrey  de  Bouillon  on  the  First 
Crusade  and  when  he  was  made  a  knight 
asked  to  be  allowed  to  carry  his  father's  buried 
shield,  that  he  might  redeem  it  and  restore 
a  new  blazon  to  the  family  escutcheon.  Did 
you  not  notice  on  our  shield  the  white  lion 
rampant,  which  indicates  the  Crusader,  with  the 
red  bars  across  the  field  ?  He  won  that  device 


2i2  Feudal  Chateaux 

at  the  battle  of  Ascalon,  when  he  was  desper- 
ately wounded  in  defence  of  Godfrey.  The 
chief  thought  him  dying,  and  he  drew  his 
fingers,  stained  in  the  attempt  to  stanch  his 
friend's  wound,  across  his  well  dented  shield, 
leaving  it  '  barry  of  gules' " 

I  remembered  shamefacedly  how  in  the 
early  days  of  our  acquaintance  I  had  privately 
made  sport  of  the  La  Joyeuse  coat  of  arms, 
designating  it  flippantly  as  a  circus  poodle  in 
boxing  attitude  behind  a  red  gridiron,  and  I 
listened  repentantly  as  the  Vicomte  continued. 

"  I  have  been  foolishly  proud  of  that  blazon, 
but  it  is  mine  no  longer." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  I  asked  ;  "  I  do  not 
understand." 

"  You  will  understand  when  you  have  read 
this  paper,  which  was  handed  me  at  Angers," 
the  Vicomte  replied.  "  Get  it,  Yseult ;  we  will 
take  our  friends  into  our  confidence.  It  will 
be  only  a  little  while  before  the  whole  world 
will  know." 

Yseult  took  the  document  from  a  cabinet. 
It  was  dated  August  23,  1793,  and  read  as  fol- 
lows : 

"  I,  Thibault  Le  Brun  testify  that  having  been  placed 
on  guard  at  the  burning  of  Chateau  La  Joyeuse  at  the 
north  side  of  the  castle,  saw  a  woman  of  the  village  dash 


Harebells  and  Broom  213 

up  the  burning  turret  staircase  and  endeavour  to  force 
an  entrance  into  the  chateau.  Not  being  able  to  open 
the  door  she  stood  there  beating  upon  it  and  shrieking 
most  piteously  until  her  dress  caught  fire.  Then,  not 
willing  to  see  her  perish,  I  ran  up,  brought  her  down,  and 
extinguished  the  flames  which  had  fastened  upon  her,  but 
not  before  she  was  badly  burned.  Even  then  she 
struggled  in  my  arms  striving  to  run  again  into  the  fire, 
and  crying  that  her  son  was  in  the  tower  above  and 
would  perish  in  the  flames.  With  that  I  recognised  her 
as  Marie  Courtois,  who  had  been  nurse  to  the  Vicomte's 
son,  but  I  told  her  that  she  was  losing  her  senses,  since 
her  child  was  safe  at  home.  '  Nay,'  she  cried, '  God  have 
pity  on  me  !  — I  changed  the  babes  in  their  cradle.  It  is 
the  young  Vicomte  I  have  at  home,  and  my  own  son  that  is 
burning  up  there.  Save  him,  save  him,  for  the  sake  of 
the  Madonna !  He  is  not  an  aristocrat.' 

"  As  she  spoke,  the  staircase  fell  away  a  mass  of  embers, 
and  I  ran  to  my  captain  and  reported  what  the  woman 
had  said,  which  I  now  set  my  name  to  as  the  truth." 

The  old  part  of  the  castle  had  resisted  the 
flames,  but  the  marauders  forced  another  door 
and  sacked  it  of  all  objects  which  had  not  been 
hidden  by  the  faithful  servant.  It  was  dis- 
covered that  the  family  had  escaped,  but  the 
captain  left  the  statement  of  Thibault  Le 
Brun  to  be  given  the  Vicomte  on  his  return, 
with  this  further  endorsement : 

"  Let  him  know  that  the  child  he  cherishes 
as  his  own  is  a  base-born  peasant,  and  that  ere 


214  Feudal  Chateaux 

he  reads  this  paper  his  own  child  will  have 
been  drowned  in  the  Loire." 

This  terrible  revelation  had  been  left  nailed 
to  the  door  of  the  chateau,  but  the  same  faith- 
ful servant  who  had  hidden  the  valuables  had 
taken  it  down,  and  knowing  the  grief  which  it 
would  cause,  yet  not  quite  daring  to  destroy  it, 
had  hidden  it  under  the  roof  of  the  turret 
where  Louis  Rondel  had  found  it. 

"  I  am  the  descendant  of  that  changeling," 
the  Vicomte  explained,  "  for  there  were  no 
other  children.  Strange  to  say,  the  captain 
who  wrote  this  paper  and  the  guard  whose 
deposition  he  took  never  returned  and  were 
never  heard  from  ;  nor  did  Marie  Courtois  ever 
come  back  to  the  village,  or  the  servant  who 
writes  on  the  envelope  that  he  hid  the  paper 
confide  the  fact  to  anyone,  and  the  secret  has 
remained  undiscovered  until  now." 

"  And  now,"  I  said,  "  that  nobility  has  been 
abolished  in  France,  what  does  it  matter?" 

The  Vicomte  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  as 
though  exorcising  a  demon.  "That  is  what  I 
told  myself  for  a  time,"  he  said.  "  I  have  been 
out  of  my  mind — possessed  of  a  devil — since 
this  knowledge  came  upon  me.  It  seemed  to  me 
monstrous,  impossible,  and  I  hid  it  in  my 
heart,  thinking  that  I  would  carry  it  to  my 


Harebells  and  Broom  215 

grave  and  never  tell.  But  I  could  not  be  so 
base.  Though  I  am  not  really  noble,  I  have 
been  reared  in  the  old  traditions  that  noblesse 
oblige.  Such  a  secret  as  that  eats  like  a  coal  of 
fire  and  cannot  be  hidden.  Since  I  am  not  a 
La  Joyeuse,  I  shall  put  this  revelation  in  the 
hands  of  the  lawyers  of  the  La  Joyeuse  family. 
Unless  this  is  disproved  I  shall  renounce  every- 
thing." 

"  Is  this  the  feeling  of  the  Vicomtesse  ? 
Does  Yseult  consent?" 

"  There  is  no  Vicomtesse  La  Joyeuse. 
This  is  hard  for  my  wife,  for  she  thought  the 
more  of  the  title  because  there  was  none  with 
her  own  broad  estates  ;  but  Yseult  approves." 

A  glance  at  Yseult's  sweetly  radiant  face 
told  me  why. 

"  Father,  our  friends  have  guessed  my 
secret,"  she  said ;  "  they  know  that  I  cannot 
grieve  for  the  loss  of  the  old  blazon,  since  its 
red  bars  kept  me  from  Louis." 

The  Vicomte — I  cannot  even  now  designate 
him  to  myself  by  any  other  term — winced. 
"  Yes,"  he  admitted,  "  there  is  no  difference 
now  in  your  rank.  I  have  written  him  a  full 
apology  for  the  attitude  I  took  at  Angers, 
and  I  have  asked  to  be  put  in  communication 
with  his  parents.  Yseult  will  receive  a  fat 


216  Feudal  Chateaux 

little  dot  from  her  mother, — she  is  still  a  desir- 
able parti." 

Yseult  made  a  little  moue  behind  her 
father's  back,  for  well  she  knew  that  neither 
dowry  nor  title  formed  any  part  of  her  attract- 
iveness to  Louis  Rondel. 

"  And  now,"  continued  her  father,  "  I  have 
some  other  papers  which  I  have  laid  aside  for 
your  inspection, — the  journal  and  various  letters 
of  our  American  ancestor.  The  letters  are  in 
English,  which  I  do  not  read.  The  journal, 
which  is  an  account  of  the  campaign  in  which 
he  took  part  with  Count  Rochambeau,  I  have 
always  intended  to  look  over,  but  since  this 
trouble  has  come  upon  me  I  do  not  find  myself 
possessing  either  the  strength  or  the  inclin- 
ation for  the  task.  You  may  find  in  these 
papers  something  of  historical  interest  to 
Americans.  Read  them  at  your  leisure,  and 
return  them  to  the  new  representative  of  the 
house." 

Thanking  the  Vicomte  for  this  privilege 
we  expressed  the  hope  that  an  arrange- 
ment might  be  made  whereby  he  could 
still  remain  at  Chateau  La  Joyeuse. 

The  Vicomte  covered  his  face  with  his  hands, 
and  shook  his  head. 

"  The  grief  of  leaving  Chateau  La  Joyeuse 


Harebells  and  Broom  217 

is  very  great,"  said  Yseult,  "  but  it  would  be 
harder  to  remain  under  the  changed  conditions, 
my  father  could  never  adapt  himself  to  them. 
We  must  go  far  away." 

"Yes,  far,  far  away,"  he  cried  passionately, 
while  his  frame  shook  with  sobs.  "  Wheel 
me  to  my  room,  Finette.  I  am  making — a 
spectacle  of  myself.  I  thought  I  was  stronger." 

Neither  the  Vicomte  nor  the  Vicomtesse 
appeared  at  dinner.  It  was  a  forlorn  meal, 
though  Yseult  did  its  honours  bravely.  We 
had  failed  in  bringing  any  consolation  to 
the  smitten  man.  It  seemed  to  us  that  he 
could  not  survive  the  final  leave-taking  of  all 
the  old  associations,  and  though  Yseult  did 
not  realise  this,  yet  her  voice  broke  as  she 
bade  us  farewell  and  urged  us  to  carry  out  the 
original  plan  of  returning  to  Chateau  La  Joy- 
euse  to  read  the  legends, — "  before  we  bid  good- 
bye to  our  dear  old  home." 

She  filled  our  hands  with  harebells  from  the 
ruined  part  of  the  chateau,  and  with  broom 
from  the  neighbouring  moors. 

The  Plante-a-gen$t,  or  yellow  broom,  gave  its 
name  to  the  Plantagenet  family ;  but  at  Chinon, 
the  old  castle  which  was  the  cradle  of  their 
race,  and  the  next  shrine  of  our  pilgrimage,  we 
found  no  broom,  but  only  delicate  harebells 


218  Feudal  Chateaux 

ringing    their    inaudible    chimes    from    rocky 
campaniles. 

"  It  is  a  good  omen,"  I  persisted  ;  "  they  are 
ringing  for  Yseult's  wedding  ;  but  oh  !  I  wish 
her  joy  might  have  been  purchased  at  a  lesser 
price." 

THE  SPECTRES  OF  CHINON 

"  Farceur  !  " 

"  Not  the  least  in  the  world.  I  tell  you, 
tout  strieusement,  I  saw  it  with  these  eyes." 

" Menteur,  alors" 

"  Tu  ose  le  dire  ?  " 

"If  I  dare?" 

"  I  would  strike  you." 

"Me,  a  woman?" 

"  Ah !  there  is  the  embarrassment.  Thou 
art  indeed  a  woman,  and,  what  is  more  unfort- 
unate, my  mother,  and,  that  which  renders 
thee  more  presuming,  thou  art  old ;  but  thou 
hast  called  me  a  liar,  thou  hast  insulted  me. 
Quoi  faire  ?  Ah  !  most  fortunately  thou  art 
an  imbecile — one  forgives  all  to  idiots." 

"  Gaston,"  said  I,  "  stop  reviling  your  mother 
instantly,  and  tell  me  what  this  is  all  about." 

"He  amuses  himself  by  fabricating  roman- 
ces." This  from  Mere  Frangoise. 

"  She  is  a  vrai  t$te  de  choux  (cabbage-head). 


Harebells  and  Broom  219 

She  knows  nothing."  This  from  the  filial 
Gaston.  "  Figure  of  a  pig,  but  it  is  unbear- 
able !  When  everyone  knows  that  the  old 
castle  is  haunted !  I  have  myself  seen  the 
spectre.  Jean  le  Roux  has  seen  it,  and  so  has 
old  Michel." 

"  Liars  all,"  broke  in  the  old  woman.  "  Jean 
le  Roux  is  a  drunkard,  who  sees  serpents  in 
his  path  each  night;  Michel  is  out  of  his 
mind,  and  my  son — "  he  lifted  his  arm  as 
though  to  strike  her — "is,  as  you  see,  a 
sacreligious  one,  a  parricide,  and  (climax  of 
infamy !)  a  hanger-on  of  artists  and  other  idle 
people." 

"  Since  you  have  reached  this  depth  of  de- 
gradation, Gaston,  pick  up  the  sketching  kit 
and  tramp  for  the  chateau ;  and  as  we  go  tell 
us  what  you  and  your  honourable  colleagues 
have  seen.  What  was  the  spectre  like  ?  " 

"So  please  you,  Monsieur,  it  was  the  Pu- 
celle." 

"What!  Joan  of  Arc?" 

"  Herself." 

"  That  was  very  appropriate — but  I  suppose 
you,  who  have  been  brought  up  at  Chinon, 
have  possibly  heard  that  Jean  d'Arc  was  first 
introduced  to  King  Charles  VII.  in  the  great 
hall  of  Chinon." 


220  Feudal  Chateaux 

"  Oh,  yes,  Monsieur,  I  have  heard  that 
story,  and  how  they  tried  to  fool  her  by  telling 
her  that  someone  else  was  the  King ;  but  she 
stuck  out  her  tongue  at  the  false  jokers,  in  the 
same  way  that  my  mother  did  at  me  when  I 
told  her  the  sacred  truth  this  morning,  and 
she  struck  the  true  King  on  the  shoulder,  say- 
ing, '  You  're  it,'  as  the  children  do  when  they 
play  tag." 

"  Since  you  have  the  facts  of  history  down 
to  so  fine  a  point  as  that,  is  it  not  just  pos- 
sible that  you  may  have  had  the  lady  who 
saved  France  so  completely  in  your  mind  that 
you  imagined  that  you  saw  her  ?  " 

"Ah,  no,  Monsieur,  for  we  all  saw  her  at 
the  same  time,  and  if  Michel  is  half  crazy,  and 
Le  Roux  had  unquestionably  had  a  few  drops, 
still  we  could  not  all  have  imagined  the  same 
thing,  could  we  ?  " 

"  What  was  she  doing  ? — playing  tag  around 
the  castle,  with  the  King  chasing  after  her  ?  " 

"Ah  !  Monsieur  is  incredulous  ;  I  will  say  no 
more." 

"But,  Gaston,"  I  pleaded,  "/believe  you 
perfectly,  and  I  am  very  much  interested ; 
don't  mind  Monsieur,  but  tell  me." 

"Ah,  thanks,  Madame,"  and  the  boy's  face 
lighted  with  a  sunny  smile.  "  It  is  good  to  be 


Harebells  and  Broom  221 

believed,  and  you  shall  know  all.  It  was  at 
the  hour  of  sunset  yesterday^  the  castle 
was  stretched  out  along  the  hill  as  you  see 
it ;  I  had  gone  to  the  little  knoll  to  gather 
up  Monsieur's  implements  de  travail ;  Michel 
and  Le  Roux  joined  me,  and  asked  to  see 
the  picture  which  Monsieur  had  been  paint- 
ing. I  placed  the  easel  in  the  road  and  we 
looked  at  it  together.  Le  Roux  is  a  great 
admirer  of  the  fine  arts,  and  can  talk  beauti- 
fully about  them,  when  he  is  not  too  drunk, 
and  Michel  was  himself  an  artist  when  he  was 
young." 

"  That  was  before  he  became  insane  ?" 
"  Pardon,  Madame,  that  was  at  the  worst  of 
it;  he  is  quite  harmless  now.  He  essayed  to 
make  his  living  by  decorating  wedding-cakes 
with  Cupids  modelled  in  sugar  and  coloured 
to  the  life,  ravishing  creations,  I  am  told ;  but 
what  would  you  ?  The  stupid  bourgeoisies 
have  no  eye  for  art,  fine  sugar  is  expensive, 
young  people  did  not  marry  fast  enough,  and 
he  was  forced  to  degrade  his  inspirations  by 
executing  them  in  gingerbread  for  fairs.  The 
medium  is  ungrateful ;  the  torture  of  seeing 
his  finest  conceptions  distorted  in  the  baking 
drove  him  insane.  He  no  longer  strives 
against  fate  to  realise  his  ideals." 


222  Feudal  Chateaux 

"  Poor  brother  artist !  I  would  like  to  have 
heard  your  friends  criticise  my  picture." 

"  Pardon,  Monsieur,  you  would  not.  They 
did  not  find  it  good.  But  that  is  inessential. 
As  we  were  all  talking  about  it  and  comparing 
it  with  the  castle,  striving  in  vain  to  find  any 
resemblance,  we  suddenly  saw  crossing  the 
bridge  the  figure  of  the  Pucelle.  She  was  in 
complete  armour,  and  she  was  mounted  on  a 
horse  that  was  in  armour  too.  He  had  a 
mask  of  steel  on  his  face  from  which  projected 
a  long,  sharp  spike,  and  there  were  scales  of 
steel  along  the  back  of  his  neck,  and  the  Maid 
held  a  long  spear  in  her  hand,  with  a  little 
three-cornered  flag  on  the  end.  She  did  not 
ride  very  well  and  the  horse  did  not  like  his 
armour,  for  he  shook  his  head  and  it  rattled, 
clap,  clap,  clap,  and  we  all  heard  it." 

We  had  reached  the  point  of  vantage  from 
which  my  husband  was  making  his  sketch. 
The  ruins  of  the  grand  old  castle  loomed  up 
very  nobly.  Three  chateaux,  Saint  George, 
Coudray,  and  the  Chateau  du  Milieu,  with 
their  connecting  walls,  made  up  the  fortress. 
They  silhouette  in  a  straggling  but  picturesque 
sky-line,  which  the  ruined  towers  dominate  at 
just  the  right  salient  points,  and  convey  in  the 
first  view  the  impression  of  gloom  which  the 


Harebells  and  Broom  223 

imagination,  stimulated  by  a  study  of  their 
tragical  history,  demands  of  them.  For  Chinon 
is  a  place  sinister  from  its  very  founding  in  the 
obscurity  of  the  dark  ages  by  the  Foulques  of 
Anjou,  and  it  held  its  own  as  pre-eminent  in 
horror  above  all  the  other  feudal  fortresses  of 
Touraine  with  the  exception  of  Louis  XL's 
terrible  dungeons  at  Loches.  That  ogre  in 
human  shape,  Foulque  Rechin  (the  Brawler), 
here  shut  up  his  brother  in  miserable  imprison- 
ment for  thirty  years,  until  Pope  Urban,  who 
was  holding  a  council  at  Tours,  demanded  his 
release.  Its  history  as  the  ancestral  home  of 
the  Plantagenets  was  still  one  of  strife  and  evil 
doom,  and  later  the  Inquisition  had  a  court 
and  torture  chamber  here. 

The  brightest  gleam  that  ever  touched  it  was 
the  evanescent  one  which  flashed  from  the 
armour  of  Joan  of  Arc,  as  she  rode  beneath 
its  portcullis,  bringing  to  Charles  VII.  her 
mission  of  deliverance  to  France.  It  was 
therefore  rather  pleasant  to  know  that  if  the 
castle  was  haunted  (as  it  seemed  perfectly  be- 
fitting and  natural  it  should  be),  it  was  by  so 
gentle  a  ghost.  She  fitted  charmingly  into  the 
mental  picture,  and  would  have  given  just  the 
touch  of  human  interest  to  key  up  my  hus- 
band's sketch.  "  I  wish  she  would  appear 


224  Feudal  Chateaux 

now,"  he  said  ;  "  a  mounted  figure  would  come 
in  very  well  on  that  bridge." 

"  It  was  at  the  cheerful  hour  of  sunset  that 
Gaston  saw  the  appearance  yesterday,"  I  sug- 
gested. "  You  have  only  to  paint  a  little  later 
than  usual  and  she  may  favour  us." 

"  The  castle  is  good  enough  for  me  without 
her,"  the  artist  mumbled,  with  his  mouth  full 
of  brushes.  "  I  have  n't  seen  anything  in  all 
Touraine  that  comes  up  so  absolutely  to  one's 
requirements.  All  of  the  white  pleasure-chd- 
teaux,  reflected  so  bewitchingly  in  the  smiling 
Loire,  were  theatrical  and  modern.  They 
posed  self-consciously,  like  pretty  women  quite 
confident  of  our  admiration  ;  but  Chinon  is 
an  aged  queen  who  commands  admiration 
though  she  has  outgrown  the  love  of  it." 

That  day,  while  the  artist  painted,  I  read 
aloud  from  Ozanzeaux'  Chronique  of  the  mis- 
sion of  Joan  of  Arc.  I  had  reached  his  descrip- 
tion of  her  entree  into  Chinon  : 


"The  courts,  the  staircases,  the  vast  corridors  were 
lined  with  valets,  with  pages,  and  halberdiers.  At  last 
the  door  of  the  throne-room  opened,  and  the  pucelle  dis- 
covered a  vast  assembly,  who  poured  upon  her  a  deluge 
of  curious  glances.  Instantly  she  recognized  the  King, 
and  approaching  him  said  with  resolute  voice, — '  Charles, 
gentle  Dauphin,  Jeanne  d'Arc  salutes  thee.'  " 


Harebells  and  Broom  225 

"  That  would  make  a  magnificent  picture,  if 
one  were  strong  enough  to  paint  it,"  said  my 
husband. 

In  doubt  whether  he  referred  to  the  passage 
I  had  just  read  or  to  the  scene  before  him,  I 
looked  up,  and  saw  that  I  had  read  on  until 
now  all  the  sky  was  aflame  with  a  magnificent 
sunset.  My  gaze  fell  from  the  glowing  clouds 
to  the  dark  hollow  of  the  arched  doorway, 
when  suddenly  it  was  filled  by  the  figure  of  a 
mounted  knight.  No,  it  was  not  a  knight,  but 
Joan  of  Arc  herself,  as  Gaston  had  described 
her,  with  the  reflected  light  glinting  from  her 
armour  with  such  splendour  that  she  seemed  a 
radiant  vision. 

Something  in  my  look  must  have  startled 
Gaston,  as  he  lay  on  his  back  in  the  grass,  for 
he  leaped  to  his  feet  and  cried  : 

"Eh  bien  !  You  have  seen  her  too.  Did  I 
tell  the  truth  or  not  ?  " 

"  Seen  what,  the  spectre  ?  "  asked  my  hus- 
band. But  he  had  looked  up  too  late — the  great 
portal  had  swallowed  the  resplendent  figure. 
Though  still  incredulous  he  could  not  regard 
my  "  hallucination,"  as  he  was  pleased  to  call 
it,  in  quite  the  same  light  as  the  fabrications 
of  a  boy  whose  own  mother  could  not  give 


226  Feudal  Chateaux 

him  a  good  reputation  for  truth,  or  as  quite 
on  a  par  with  the  visions  of  a  madman  and  a 
drunkard. 

"  Your  mind  was  full  of  the  story,"  he  said, 
"  and  your  eyes  were  dazzled  by  the  setting 
sun  ;  you  simply  thought  you  saw  the  figure. 
We  will  go  up  to  the  castle  to-morrow  morning, 
and  we  will  find  that  doorway  barred  across  with 
cobwebs,  and  the  bridge  thick  with  untracked 
dust.  Then  I  trust  you  will  be  convinced." 

Gaston  shook  his  head  and  gave  me  a  look 
of  sympathy,  we  were  comrades  now,  under 
the  same  persecution.  "  Ghosts  do  not  leave 
footprints,  and  they  pass  straight  through 
barred  doors,"  he  said,  confidentially.  The 
artist  might  prove  that  we  were  wrong,  but  we 
would  not  be  convinced — we  had  seen  the 
spectre. 

The  next  morning,  as  we  climbed  the  hill, 
my  husband  in  his  eagerness  outdistanced  me, 
and  when  I  overtook  him  on  the  bridge  he  was 
looking  at  the  ground  in  a  puzzled  and  crest- 
fallen manner. 

"  There  is  something  very  peculiar  here,"  he 
said  ;  "the  ground  is  all  trampled  and  trodden. 
A  horse  has  passed  both  in  and  out  several 
times, — you  can  tell  that  by  the  different  direc- 
tions in  which  the  hoof-marks  point.  It  is 


Harebells  and  Broom  227 

always  the  same  horse  too,  for  they  are  ex- 
actly of  the  same  size.  There  is  no  mark  of 
wheels." 

We  made  the  circuit  of  the  ruins,  but  saw  no 
one.  Richelieu,  whose  policy  it  was  to  destroy 
the  chateaux-forts  in  order  to  weaken  the  nobles 
and  strengthen  the  royal  power,  made  no  ex- 
ception of  Chinon,  though  it  belonged  to  him. 
He  pulled  down  even  the  great  hall  in  which 
Charles  VII.  received  Joan  of  Arc,  and  the 
only  relic  of  that  meeting  is  the  hooded  fire- 
place against  which  the  King  leaned.  This 
now  hangs  forlornly  on  the  portion  of  the  wall 
left  standing.  The  Tower  of  Coudray,  where 
Joan  was  entertained  during  her  visit  at  Chi- 
non by  the  lieutenant  of  the  castle,  Guillaume 
Bellier,  is  at  the  extreme  end  of  the  fortress. 
In  its  court  she  was  taught  the  exercise  of  arms 
by  the  Duke  d'Alen^on,  who  presented  her 
with  a  horse.  As  I  was  a  little  wearied  by 
my  climb  I  sat  down  opposite  this  tower,  while 
my  husband  completed  his  inspection  of  the 
ruins. 

"  Did  you  see  no  one  ? "  I  asked  as  he 
returned  from  his  rounds.  "  It  seemed  to  me 
that  I  saw  a  face  appear  at  that  window  in  the 
Tower  of  Coudray,  but  it  vanished  so  quickly 
that  I  am  not  at  all  positive." 


228  Feudal  Chateaux 

"  It  may  be,"  my  husband  replied ;  "  for  when 
I  had  almost  reached  the  tower  I  distinctly 
heard  someone  singing.  I  stood  still  and  list- 
ened. .The  voice  was  pure  and  liquid,  the  words 
that  pretty  Rtcit  de  Jeanne  d' Arc  of  Mermet's : 

*  Un  jour  d'ete"  sous  1'ombre  de  1'eglise 
Dans  le  jardin  seule  j'etais   assise 
Quand  1'Archange  Michel  une  e'pe'e  a  la  main, 
M'apparait,  suivis  d'un  cortege  sans  fin.' 

The  last  line  was  repeated  more  softly.  As 
soon  as  the  cadence  had  died  away  I  hurried 
forward  and  explored  the  tower.  It  was  vacant^ 
and  there  was  not  a  human  being  in  sight.  The 
whole  thing  is  becoming  most  mysterious." 

As  he  spoke  we  again  heard  singing.  This 
time  it  was  not  a  girl's  voice,  but  the  manly 
ring  of  a  chant  de  guerre,  reverberating  as  in 
some  vaulted  hall  : 

"  Oui,  tous  pour  la  France, 
Nous  combattrons  a  tes  c6te*s  ! 
Dieu  le  veut !     Tu  rends  1'esperance 
A  ces  cceurs  qu'elle  avait  quittes  !  " 

It  was  just  such  a  battle-hymn  as  might  have 
been  caught  up  by  the  great  assemblage  of 
knights  when  Joan  entered  the  castle. 

A  soprano  voice  now  caught  up  the  refrain, 
and  thrilled — 


Harebells  and  Broom  229 

"  Nous  deliver ons  lapatrie  ! 
Nous  deliver  ons  la  patrie  !  " 

while  the  base  kept  time  as  to  the  tramp  of 
marching  feet — 

"  Dieu  le  veut,  Dieu  le  veut, 
Dieu  le  veut." 

"  It  is  her  voice,"  my  husband  cried,  running 
forward — "  the  voice  I  heard  from  the  Tower 
of  Coudray, — Joan  of  Arc's." 

I  followed  as  quickly  as  I  was  able — and 
there  on  the  spot  where  the  great  hall  had 
been,  near  the  old  fireplace,  we  both  saw  her. 

She  was  standing  as  motionless  as  a  statue. 
Indeed,  were  it  not  that  the  light  morning 
breeze  fluttered  her  faded  skirt  of  grey  frieze, 
she  might  have  been  a  statue.  She  wore  a 
steel  cuirass  whose  plated  sleeves  met  the 
steel  gauntlets,  and  her  legs  were  encased  in 
greaves  and  solarets.  Her  helmet  was  on  the 
ground  by  her  side,  and  her  hair  cut  squarely 
just  above  her  shoulders.  She  was  looking 
upward  with  a  rapt  expression,  and  held  to  her 
breast  a  cross-hilted  sword. 

I  confess  that  for  a  moment  I  was  positively 
stupefied.  Here  was  no  glamour  of  moonlight 
or  possibility  of  deception,  but  there  in  the 
garish  light  of  day  stood  the  embodied  Maid 


230  Feudal  Chateaux 

of  Orleans  !  My  brain  swam  ;  were  my  senses 
leaving  me  ? 

It  was  only  for  an  instant,  for  my  husband 
was  shaking  hands  with  a  gentleman  in  a  worn 
velvet  coat,  who  held  a  palette  on  his  thumb, 
and  had  stepped  forward  from  behind  a  sketch- 
ing easel.  It  was  his  friend,  Leon  Gautier,  an 
historical  painter,  who  had  chosen  to  bring  his 
wife,  who  sometimes  served  him  as  a  model, 
to  Chinon,  and  to  paint  his  studies  for  his 
next  Salon  picture  in  these  authentic  surround- 
ings. He  was  laughing  heartily,  for  my  hus- 
band had  explained  how  we  had  been  intrigued. 
"  We  had  no  idea,"  he  said,  "  that  we  were 
giving  a  cantata  for  your  benefit.  Yvonne  has 
a  fair  voice,  and  we  often  try  a  duo  to- 
gether." 

After  this,  and  so  long  as  we  were  all  at  Chi- 
non, we  met  frequently.  Monsieur  Gautier  was 
something  of  an  antiquary,  and  a  great,  en- 
thusiast over  everything  connected  with  the 
Middle  Ages.  He  had  rented  the  little  cha- 
teau at  Blois  which  formerly  belonged  to  the 
Due  de  Guise,  and  had  filled  it  with  a  collec- 
tion of  costumes  and  armour. 

He  explained  to  us  the  difference  in  armour 
worn  at  various  periods.  The  Norman  hau- 
berk or  shirt  of  chain  mail  in  all  its  gradations 


NORMAN  ARMOUR— LINKED  MAIL— XlTH  CENTURV 


Harebells  and  Broom  231 

was  perfected  during  the  Crusades  from  imita- 
tion of  the  Saracens'  fine  cloth  of  linked  steel. 
He  showed  us  how  plate  armour  was  intro- 
duced, first  by  shoulder-,  elbow-,  and  knee- 
pieces,  and  lastly  the  transition  in  the  four- 
teenth century  to  a  complete  panoply  of  plate. 
I  was  startled  in  looking  at  the  suit  worn  by 
Madame  Gautier  to  recognise  in  one  of  the 
shoulder-pieces  a  grotesque  face  with  jewelled 
eyes  exactly  similar  to  the  one  I  had  seen  at 
Chateau  La  Joyeuse.  Monsieur  Gautier  told 
us  that  he  had  seen  a  very  old  portrait  of  Joan 
of  Arc  in  which  she  wore  such  armour,  and  that 
this  particular  tpaultire  had  been  lent  him  by  a 
friend.  I  told  him  of  its  reappearance  in  the 
legends  of  Roland  and  Rollo,  and  later  he  re- 
lated another  chapter  in  the  history  of  the 
strange  object.  He  showed  us,  too,  a  cham- 
fron  or  horse's  helmet  with  neck-plates  and 
housings,  which  transformed  his  sturdy  sorrel 
horse  Flavel  (named  for  Coeur  de  Lion's 
charger)  from  a  respectable  modern  hackney 
into  Joan's  gallant  steed.  He  had  thought  at 
first  of  painting  her  in  the  tilt-yard  of  the 
castle  by  d'Alengon,  but  gave  this  up  in 
favour  of  Chinon. 

He  was  a  collector  of  legends  as  well  as  of 
bric-a-brac,  and  said  that  often  in  the  folk-lore 


232  Feudal  Chateaux 

of  the  people  he  had  found  inspiration  for  a 
picture. 

One  day,  as  the  artists  painted  in  company, 
Gaston  related  some  marvellous  tale  of  a  gob- 
lin dance  which  he  had  witnessed  one  evening 
in  the  ruins.  Monsieur  Gautier  professed  en- 
tire credence,  and  proceeded  to  draw  him  out  : 
"  These  goblins,  Gaston,  how  did  they  look  ?  " 

"  Veritable  demons,  Monsieur.  Demons 
with  black  wings  and  claws,  and  with  the  heads 
of  devils,  but  little,  and  all  dancing  in  a  circle. 
You  may  see  them  yourself  above  the  clock- 
tower  yonder  any  midsummer  night." 

"  Yes,  I  saw  them  last  night.  They  were 
bats." 

"In  the  form  of  bats  if  you  please,  sir,  but 
veritable  demons,  the  descendants  of  Mabile, 
who  inhabit  that  tower." 

"  Who  do  you  pretend  was  their  ances- 
tress ?  " 

"  I  do  not  pretend,  Monsieur ;  it  is  all  the 
pure  truth." 

"  Be  careful,  Gaston  ;  I  will  report  you  to 
Monsieur  le  Cure." 

"  It  was  Monsieur  le  Cure  who  told  me  the 
story  of  the  Lady  Mabile,  Monsieur,  and  that 
these  bats  are  her  progeny.  He  said  it  was 
as  true  as  the  legends  of  the  saints." 


PLATE  ARMOUR— XVTH  CENTURY, 


Harebells  and  Broom  233 

"Then  I  believe  you.     Tell  us  the  legend." 
"  Many  hundred  years  ago,  Monsieur,  there 
was   a   lord   of   this   castle   named    Foulques 
Rechin." 

"  Exactly,  that  is  history  ;  go  on." 
"  He  married  a  demon.  He  did  not  know 
at  first  that  she  was  a  true  daughter  of  Satan, 
though  she  led  him  the  devil  of  a  life,  and  stirred 
up  all  manner  of  strife  with  his  neighbours. 
At  last  he  began  to  suspect  her,  for  she  would 
never  go  to  mass,  and  he  had  her  taken  forci- 
bly to  church  by  his  men-at-arms,  and  held 
during  the  service.  But  at  the  elevation  of 
the  Host  her  fingers  shot  out  great  claws,  and 
she  scratched  her  guards'  faces  so  fiercely  that 
they  let  go  of  her,  and  she  spread  out  her 
black  cloak,  making  two  great  wings,  and  flew 
away  over  their  heads  out  of  the  church  win- 
dow, and  up  over  the  castle.  The  Cure  told 
it  to  the  boys  at  school,  to  make  them  come  to 
their  first  communion,  for  all  bad  boys  he  said 
were  the  children  of  Mabile,  and  would  be 
changed  at  last  into  bats  instead  of  going  to 
Heaven." 

"But  the  bats  do  no  harm,"  I  commented. 
"  Pardon,   Madame,  but  they  are  very  evil 
birds.     They  are  responsible  for  all  the  mis- 
fortunes which  have  come  to  all  the  inhabit- 


234  Feudal  Chateaux 

ants  of  this  castle.  To  this  day  no  one  of 
us,  however  hungry,  will  eat  a  bat.  Would 
Madame  eat  one  ?  " 

"  Hardly." 

"Ah  !  that  proves  it, — and  yet  Madame  had 
never  heard  this  legend." 

"  Your  story  is  a  good  one,"  said  Monsieur 
Gautier.  "  Do  you  know  any  others  ?  " 

"  Only  one  other  true  one.  Has  Monsieur 
ever  heard  of  the  Lady  Melusine  ?  " 

"  Melusine  of  the  chateau  of  Lusignan  ? 
Certainly.  She  was  a  fairy  lady.  John  of 
Arras  in  1387  wrote  her  story.  As  the  good 
Cure  said,  it  is  as  true  as  the  legends  of  the 
saints.  But  tell  us  the  story  as  you  know  it 
here." 

"  Melusine  was  a  good  fairy — not  hateful 
like  Mabile.  She  was  '  meme  trts  gentil?  She 
was  a  very  pretty  woman  down  to  the  waist, 
but  the  rest  of  her  was  a  hideous  water-snake. 
One  day  the  knight  Raymond  de  Lusignan, 
who  was  hunting,  saw  her  bathing  in  a  lake  in 
the  midst  of  the  forest.  He  held  in  his  horse 
and  looked  at  her,  but  her  slimy  tail  was 
under  the  water,  and  he  saw  only  her  lovely 
white  human  form.  The  moment  she  saw  him 
she  cowered  down  into  the  water  very  modestly, 
and  her  lovely  hair  spread  out  on  its  surface 


Harebells  and  Broom  235 

like  the  petals  of  a  pond  lily.  But  she  did  not 
sink  quite  out  of  sight,  and  she  kept  looking 
at  him  with  her  wonderful  eyes,  until  he  fell 
in  love  with  her  and  begged  her  to  come  out 
of  the  water.  She  told  him  that  was  impos- 
sible, as  it  was  not  the  fashion  in  those  days 
for  ladies  to  wear  bathing-suits,  and  he  seeing 
her  so  modest  knew  that  she  was  a  lady,  and 
loved  her  all  the  more,  and  begged  her  to  be 
his  bride.  Now  it  is  possible  for  fairies  of  her 
kind,  if  they  are  loved  by  mortals,  to  become 
human  beings  for  six  days  in  the  week,  but  one 
day  they  must  retain  their  old  form.  So  Mel- 
usine  said,  '  If  you  love  me,  come  to-morrow 
to  my  castle,  and  we  will  talk  of  this  matter ; 
and  in  the  meantime  throw  me  your  ring.' 

"  But  Raymond  could  not  wait  until  the  mor- 
row, and  as  the  place  she  had  described  was 
on  his  way  to  his  own  castle,  he  went  back  that 
way.  But  there  was  no  castle  there,  for  Mel- 
usine  had  not  had  time  to  erect  one  by  her 
enchantments.  So  Raymond  thought  she  was 
a  deceiver,  and  did  not  go  on  the  morrow  to 
the  tryst. 

"  As  he  did  not  love  her  enough  to  believe  in 
her,  Melusine  did  not  become  a  woman,  and  so 
could  not  go  to  him ;  and  things  remained  as 
they  were  until  one  day  the  knight  thought  of 


236  Feudal  Chateaux 

his  ring  and  regretted  that  he  had  so  lightly 
parted  with  it.  As  it  was  of  great  value  he  de- 
termined to  drag  the  pool  for  it.  He  took  a 
net  of  fine  meshes  and  went  again  into  the 
forest,  and  having  weighted  it  began  to  drag. 
He  knew  at  once  that  he  had  found  something 
heavy  and  when  he  pulled  it  to  the  surface 
there  was  Melusine,  caught  in  the  net.  She 
closed  her  eyes  and  he  thought  that  she  had 
been  drowned  in  the  pool  and  it  was  only  her 
dead  body  that  he  had  found.  So  now  his 
heart  was  filled  with  ruth,  and  he  believed  in 
her  in  spite  of  his  former  suspicions  ;  so  as  he 
lifted  her  in  his  arms  her  serpent  shape  changed 
beneath  the  water,  and  as  he  drew  her  out  she 
was  all  a  lovely  woman.  He  covered  her  with 
his  cloak,  and  bewailed  her,  and  Melusine, 
knowing  that  she  was  at  last  truly  beloved 
and  wholly  a  woman,  opened  her  eyes,  and  he 
brought  her  to  the  castle,  which  was  now  really 
there,  and  they  were  married  and  were  very 
happy.  But,  as  I  have  told  you,  this  could 
only  be  six  days  in  the  week,  so  Melusine  made 
him  promise  to  let  her  pass  Sundays  alone  in 
the  forest.  They  had  eight  brave  and  beauti- 
ful human  children  and  Melusine  helped  them 
by  her  fairy  power,  so  that  the  boys  performed 
wonderful  exploits,  and  there  were  no  maidens 


Harebells  and  Broom  237 

in  all  France  so  lovely  as  the  girls  ;  and  though 
Raymond  gave  his  entire  fortune  to  the  eldest 
when  she  married,  there  was  as  much  for  all 
the  others  when  their  turns  came.  Now  all 
would  have  been  well  but  for  the  demon  curi- 
osity ;  for  Raymond  began  to  wonder  what 
his  wife  did  on  Sundays,  and  at  last  he  became 
jealous  and  followed  her  and  learned  the  truth. 

"  Though  he  would  have  taken  her  back  with 
him  even  on  these  terms,  he  could  not,  for  he 
had  doubted  her,  and  the  spell  was  broken. 
She  sank  into  the  pool,  and  was  never  heard  of 
more.  He  dragged  it  again  with  the  net  but 
he  could  never  catch  her,  though  at  the  first 
haul  he  found  his  ring  glistening  in  its  meshes." 

"  You  have  told  the  legend  of  the  Lusignan 
family  very  well,"  said  Monsieur  Gautier,  "and 
it  does  not  differ  materially  from  the  form  in 
which  it  exists  in  literature.  The  castle  is  not 
far  from  Chinon,  and  the  Lusignans  and  Plant- 
agenets  are  connected  in  their  family  history. 
Richard  Cceur  de  Lion  and  Hugh  de  Lusignan 
you  will  remember  were  warm  friends." 

"  So  were  the  ladies,"  Gaston  interpolated. 

"  What  ladies  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Mesdames  Mabile  Plantagenet  and  Melu- 
sine  Lusignan.  It  is  a  pity  that  Melusine  could 
not  have  sweetened  Mabile's  temper,  but  a 


238  Feudal  Chateaux 

demon  she  was,  and  a  demon  she  will  re- 
main." 

"Is  there  more  of  the  legend?"  Monsieur 
Gautier  asked,  somewhat  surprised. 

"Mais  certainement ;  there  is  the  part  about 
the  magic  armour." 

"  And  what  is  that  ?  I  have  never  heard 
it." 

"  It  was  after  the  disappearance  of  both  of 
the  ladies,  but  long  years  ago,  nevertheless,  as 
I  have  heard,  that  the  Saracens  invaded  France 
and  fought  a  great  battle  not  far  from  Chinon. 
It  may  not  be  true — it  is  the  only  part  of  the 
story  that  seems  unlikely,  and  the  King  of 
France  sent  a  knight  with  a  hammer,  who  led 
the  French  forces  and  defeated  them  all." 

"  Yes,  I  happen  to  have  heard  of  that.  It  was 
the  battle  of  Tours,  gained  by  Charles  Martel ; 
that  is  historical." 

"  Then  the  rest  of  the  story  must  be  historical 
too.  On  the  side  of  the  Saracens  there  were 
some  knights  who  wore  magic  armour,  and 
they  could  not  have  been  slain  had  not  Melu. 
sine  and  Mabile,  who  were  both  French  at 
heart,  used  their  enchantments  to  direct  the 
arrows  to  the  vulnerable  parts.  They  each 
wanted  this  armour  for  their  descendants. 
Melusine,  because  she  knew  a  way  to  make  it 


Harebells  and  Broom  239 

still  more  fortunate  for  the  wearer,  and  Mabile, 
because  she  intended  to  poison  it  so  that  it 
would  cause  the  death  of  him  who  wore  it. 

So,  as  soon  as  the  battle  was  over,  Mabile  flew 
to  the  field  to  strip  the  slain,  but  Melusine 
had  been  there  before  her,  and  had  carried  the 
armour  to  her  pool.  Now  a  bat  cannot  dive, 
so  all  Mabile  could  do  was  to  fan  the  pool  with 
her  wings  until  she  dried  it  up.  But  Melusine^ 
as  she  felt  the  water  diminishing,  dragged  the 
armour  deeper  still  into  an  underground  cave 
where  there  was  an  undying  spring,  and  here 
Mabile  could  not  come.  And  there  it  exists, 
for  all  I  know,  to  this  day,  with  a  blessing  for 
the  Lusignans  and  a  curse  for  the  Plantagenets. 
There  is  not  a  boy  who  knows  that  legend  but 
has  searched  for  that  armour  with  a  wand  of 
witch-hazel  but  no  one  has  found  it." 

Monsieur  Gautier,  who  had  listened  to  the 
legend  with  growing  excitement,  now  sprang 
from  his  camp-stool,  and  threw  his  cap  into 
the  air  exclaiming,  "  At  last  I  have  found  it ! " 

"  Found  what  ?  the  armour  ? "  we  asked  in 
chorus. 

"  No,  the  missing  link  in  a  story  which  has 
always  baffled  me.  Your  legend,  Gaston,  ex- 
plains the  contrary  effects,  for  bane  and 
blessing,  which  that  magic  armour  had  on  the 


240  Feudal  Chateaux 

families  of  Plantagenet  and  Lusignan.  It  was 
found  long  since,  and  lost  again,  and  the  second 
time  that  it  was  lost  it  was  far  from  Chinon." 

"  Tell  us  the  legend,"  we  clamoured ;  and 
Monsieur  Gautier,  thus  besought,  related  the 
story  of  the  treasure  of  Chalus,  the  lodestones 
of  love,  for  which  Richard  lost  his  life  and 
knew  that  it  was  not  lost  in  vain. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  LODESTONES  OF  LOVE 

Ah  !  dear  Provence  !  ah  !  happy  troubadour, 
And  that  sweet,  mellow,  antique  song  of  thine! 

RICHARD  WATSON  GILDER. 

"  /\/l  ^  legencV'  sa*d  Monsieur  Gautier,  "  which 
*  *  1  I  tracked  all  through  Provence,  and 
among  the  castled  crags  of  the  Limousin,  find- 
ing it  on  the  battlements  of  Carcassonne  at 
Bordeaux,  and  under  the  ruins  of  Chalus,  has 
its  roots  at  Chinon  in  a  double  sense.  In  the 
first  place,  because  it  was  near  Chinon  that 
Charles  Martel  gained  his  great  victory  over 
the  Moors,  which  resulted  in  bringing  the 
precious  lodestones  to  France,  and  secondly, 
because  it  is  the  life  story,  and  particularly 
the  love  story,  of  the  noblest  of  the  Planta- 
genets,  Richard  Coeur  de  Lion." 


16 


242  Feudal  Chateaux 

Gaston  looked  up  from  the  grass  and  com- 
mented approvingly  :  "  But  yes,  but  yes,  he 
belonged  to  Chinon,  and  he  is  buried  in  our 
Abbey  of  Fontevraud.  He  was  one  of  our 
French  kings  who  owned  England." 

"  Gaston  is  very  nearly  right,"  said  Mon- 
sieur Gautier,  "  in  his  characterisation  of  Rich- 
ard as  a  French  king.  The  time  which  he 
spent  in  England  in  his  different  flying  visits 
would  hardly  have  aggregated  a  year.  He 
had  more  French  blood  than  English  in  his 
veins,  he  was  entirely  French  in  feeling,  and  it 
is  even  doubtful  whether  he  could  speak 
English  fluently,  while  he  inherited  a  more 
important  portion  of  France  than  the  French 
king.  The  perpetual  struggle  between  Eng- 
land and  France  was  at  this  time  a  desperate 
one  for  the  French  nation.  Richard's  father, 
Henry  II.  of  England,  inherited  from  his 
father,  Geoffrey  Plantagenet,  only  the  insignifi- 
cant domain  of  the  Foulques,  Anjou  and 
Touraine  ;  but  Geoffrey  had  married  Maude, 
granddaughter  of  William  the  Conqueror,  and 
she  left  Henry  Normandy  and  Brittany,  and 
finally  secured  for  him  the  throne  of  England. 
Through  marriage  with  Eleanor  of  Aquitaine 
Henry  annexed  Provence,  '  securing  his  posi- 
tion in  France  as  lord  from  sea  to  sea  from  the 


The  Lodestones  of  Love         243 

Norman  coast  to  the  Gulf  of  Lions.'  He 
would  have  held  what  he  had  gained  had  he 
not  been  the  father  of  a  tribe  of  turbulent 
boys,  strong,  like  their  father,  quarrelsome,  and 
ambitious.  Henry  could  meet  and  master 
exterior  foes,  but  he  could  not  keep  his  own 
family  in  subjection,  and  one  of  his  sons 
said  bitterly,  '  The  only  way  we  can  have 
peace  and  unity  is  to  unite  in  fighting  our 
father.' 

"After  the  death  of  his  two  elder  sons,  the 
King's  preference  was  plainly  for  his  young- 
est, John,  who  received  an  English  education, 
and  was  kept  by  his  father  near  him  in  Eng- 
land ;  while  Queen  Eleanor  fostered  Richard's 
right  to  the  heirship,  and  brought  him  up  in 
her  own  dominion  of  Aquitaine. 

"  Chinon  was  the  common  meeting-ground  of 
the  family,  the  only  spot  that  they  could  all 
look  upon  as  home,  and  yet  it  was  the  pre- 
ferred residence  of  none  of  them. 

"  It  was  the  spot,  however,  where  took  place 
those  angry  encounters  and  agonised  repent- 
ances and  those  terrible  deaths  which  have 
made  history ;  and  over  there  in  their  Abbey 
of  Fontevraud  sleep  Henry  and  Eleanor,  as 
though  they  had  come  from  northern  Eng- 
land and  southern  France  to  dwell  together 


244  Feudal  Chateaux 

in  that  common  home,  united  at  last  in  a  long 
reconciliation,  with  all  their  passion,  their  jeal- 
ousy, their  ambition,  and  hatred  cooled  by 
death. 

"  You  will  look  in  vain  upon  the  map  for  the 
duchy  of  Aquitaine.  It  is  the  western  portion 
of  the  old  kingdom  of  Provence,  the  counties 
of  Guienne  and  Gascony,  which  have  been 
divided  in  modern  times  into  eight  others, 
comprising  all  that  beautiful  south-western 
portion  of  France,  the  valley  of  the  Garonne, 
a  little  natural  kingdom  in  itself,  with  the 
Pyrenees  its  bulwark  on  the  south,  and  the 
long  coast-line  of  the  Bay  of  Biscay.  Navarre, 
on  the  southern  slope  of  the  Pyrenees,  was 
in  the  time  of  Eleanor  a  loving  neighbour,  gov- 
erned by  Sancho  the  Wise,  who  had  three 
children :  Sancho  the  Strong,  and  two  daugh- 
ters, Berengaria  and  Blanche. 

"  Sancho  the  Strong  had  earned  his  appella- 
tion in  a  gallant  exploit  against  the  Moors, 
when  he  defeated  the  Miramolin  and  broke 
with  his  battle-axe  the  chains  that  guarded 
the  camp  of  the  infidel,  which  chains  were 
afterward  transferred  to  the  armourial  bear- 
ings of  Navarre.1  An  ardent  friendship  existed 
from  boyhood  between  Richard  and  this  young 

1  Lives  of  the  Queens  of  England,  Strickland. 


<< 

o 


The  Lodestones  of  Love         245 

Prince,  for  Sancho  was  not  only  athletic  and 
chivalrous,  but  he  shared  Richard's  taste  and 
skill  in  Proven9al  poetry. 

"His  sisters  were  noted  for  their  mental  as 
well  as  physical  graces.  Richard  first  met 
them  at  a  tournament  at  Pamplona,  where  he 
and  Sancho  became  fratrez  jurati,  or  sworn 
brothers. 

"  The  following  year  a  Court  of  Love,  or  con- 
test of  troubadours,  was  to  be  held  in  'gay 
Guienne,'  and  Richard  courteously  insisted  on 
the  attendance  of  his  host's  entire  family, 
with  special  desire  that  Berengaria  should  be 
among  the  guests,  for  (as  an  old  chronicler 
has  quaintly  stated)  from  the  time  that  he 
first  saw  her  in  the  tournament  lists,  '  Richard 
loved  the  elegant  girl.' 

"  Queen  Eleanor  had  found  in  Sancho  the 
Wise  a  faithful  and  powerful  friend,  and  she 
gladly  took  this  opportunity  to  foster  a  friend- 
ship between  their  children.  Every  effort  was 
made,  both  by  Richard  and  his  mother,  to 
make  the  approaching  literary  contest  the 
most  brilliant  that  had  ever  taken  place  in 
Provence.  Besides  being,  by  right  of  her  rank, 
judge  of  all  such  contests,  Eleanor  was  herself 
a  poetess.  Her  chansons  would  have  found  a 
place  in  French  literature  but  that  they  are 


246  Feudal  Chateaux 

too  erotic  for  even  the  lax  French  standard  of 
literary  morality. 

"  To  attract  to  the  next  festival  the  trouba- 
dours of  all  countries,  Eleanor  proclaimed  that 
every  comer  should  have  hospitality  and  safe- 
guard, were  he  her  most  deadly  foe. 

" '  And  look  you,  Richard,'  said  his  mother, 
'that  you  eclipse  every  one  of  them.' 

"  Every  class  of  Proven9al  poetry  was  to  be 
represented :  epic  romances,  ballads,  pastor- 
ales, chansons  d' amours,  tensons,  and  sirventes 
or  satires ;  and  each  class  was  to  receive  its 
prescribed  reward,  a  flower,  only  in  this  in- 
stance the  flower  was  of  beaten  gold  cun- 
ningly designed  by  the  goldsmith's  art.  The 
great  prize  of  all  was  to  be  a  golden  wreath  of 
laurel. 

"  The  day  of  the  contest  arrived.  On  the 
tournament  ground  at  a  little  distance  from 
Bordeaux,  by  the  side  of  the  sparkling  Garonne, 
had  been  spread  the  great  pavilion  of  rose- 
coloured  silk.  The  curtains  were  looped  back 
at  intervals  to  admit  the  breeze.  Within,  the 
tent  was  garlanded  to  the  central  pole  with 
roses.  The  seats  were  arranged  as  in  an 
amphitheatre,  encircling  the  Queen's  throne, 
above  which  a  canopy  of  cloth  of  gold  was 
held  by  halberds  with  silver  heads.  A  rich 


The  Lodestones  of  Love         247 

Oriental  carpet  covered  the  steps  leading  to  the 
throne  ;  on  each  step  were  ranged  two  golden- 
haired  pages,  on  whose  tabords  was  em- 
broidered the  coat  of  arms  of  Cupid, — a  flaming 
heart  with  arrows  and  chains.  Each  page 
held  on  a  silver  salver  one  of  the  golden  flowers 
which  were  to  be  given  as  prizes.  A  herald, 
gorgeously  arrayed,  announced  each  contest- 
ant as  he  arrived  and  made  obeisance  to 
the  Queen,  who  motioned  him  to  the  seats  pro- 
vided for  the  troubadours  and  their  jongleurs, 
or  musicians. 

"  On  the  first  day  each  troubadour  was  to  be 
called  upon  in  turn  to  sing  or  recite  his  poem, 
and  to  name  the  lady  in  whose  honour  it  was 
written.  On  the  second  day  matrimonial  en- 
gagements were  to  be  submitted  to  the  Queen 
for  her  approval,  and  on  the  third  the  court 
proper  was  to  be  held,  when  questions  of 
love  and  gallantry  would  be  debated,  and 
any  who  felt  themselves  aggrieved  in  matters 
of  the  heart  were  allowed  to  enter  a  protest 
before  a  jury  of  the  noble  ladies  of  Guienne. 

"  The  invitations  to  attend  the  Court  of  Love 
had  been  so  widely  scattered  that  contestants 
came  from  distant  provinces  of  France  and 
even  from  foreign  countries.  Richard  was 
deeply  disappointed  on  the  arrival  of  the  guests 


248  Feudal  Chateaux 

from  Navarre,  to  note  that  though  her  sister 
Blanche  had  accepted  the  invitation,  and 
Sancho  had  brought  a  clumsy  sonnet,  Beren- 
garia  was  not  in  the  train. 

"  Queen  Eleanor  opened  the  literary  tourney 
with  an  address  full  of  grace  and  wit,  and  closed 
it  by  repeating  a  poem  by  a  contemporaneous 
poetess,  Barbe  de  Verrue,  which  was  certainly 
most  appropriate  in  its  reference  to  her  own 
youth  of  coquetry  and  the  nobler  character  of 
her  later  years : 

'  The  gazing  crowds  proclaimed  me  fair 

Ere,  autumn-touched,  my  green  leaves  fell : 
And  now  they  smile  and  call  me  good ; 
Perhaps  I  like  that  name  as  well. 

'  On  beauty  bliss  depends  not ;   then 

Why  should  I  quarrel  with  old  Time  ? 
He  marches  on  ;  how  vain  his  power 
With  one  whose  heart  is  in  its  prime. 

*  I  joy  too,  here,  (though  those  there  be 

Who  mock  the  sentimental  tale,) 
To  see  how  lays  of  truest  love 

The  listening  circle  round  regale. 

*  You  fancy  time  for  you  stands  still, 

And  pity  me  my  hairs  of  grey, 
And  smile  to  hear  how  once  your  sires 
To  me  could  kneeling  homage  pay. 

'  And  I,  too,  smile  to  gaze  upon 
These  butterflies  in  youth  elate 


COIFFURE— TIME  OF  QUEEN   ELEANOR. 


The  Lodestones  of  Love         249 

So  heedless  sporting  round  the  flame, — 
For  love's  the  same  whate'er  the  date.' 

"  Eleanor's  proclamation  of  amnesty  and 
forgetfulness  of  old  quarrels  was  accepted  by 
more  than  one  of  her  neighbours  with  whom 
she  had  embroiled  herself,  and  her  brow  dark- 
ened as  Thibault,  Count  of  Champagne,  and 
the  youthful  Raymond,  son  of  her  old  enemy 
the  Count  of  Toulouse,  were  announced. 
Thibault  was  accredited  the  most  skilful 
amateur  troubadour  in  France,  and  would 
doubtless  win  in  whatever  class  he  chose  to 
enter.  Her  queenly  word  insured  them  both 
a  courteous  welcome,  though  she  saw  with 
displeasure  that  her  daughter,  the  Princess 
Joan,  was  soon  chatting  with  evident  pleasure 
with  the  adventurous  Raymond  de  Toulouse. 
She  quickly  summoned  him  to  open  the  con- 
test, which  he  did  by  singing  to  his  own 
accompaniment  on  the  viol  the  short  serena 
which  has  come  down  to  our  own  day.  The 
verses  ended  with  the  stanza : 

'  Her  charms  are  of  the  growth  of  Heaven, 

She  decks  the  night  with  hues  of  day  : 
Blest  are  the  eyes  to  which  't  is  given 
On  her  to  gaze  his  soul  away.' 

"The  eyes  of  the  troubadour  were  fixed 
so  ardently  on  the  Princess  Joan  that  none 


250  Feudal  Chateaux 

doubted  that  she  was  the  lady  referred  to, 
but  Eleanor  perversely  omitted  to  ask  Ray- 
mond in  whose  honour  the  poem  was  com- 
posed, and  abruptly  called  upon  Thibault  for 
his  lay,  which  was  delivered  in  praise  of 
Blanche  of  Navarre,  sister  of  Berengaria. 

"  Geoffroi  Rudel,  the  friend  of  Geoffrey  Plan- 
tagenet,  next  named  the  Countess  of  Tripoli 
(the  fair  Saracen  whom  he  had  never  seen,  and 
for  whom  he  finally  renounced  home,  religion, 
and  even  life)  as  the  lady  of  his  love,  and 
sang  a  song  which  so  touched  the  heart  of  the 
dusky  Countess  that  she  caused  it  to  be  tran- 
scribed in  letters  of  gold  and  from  his  death  to 
her  own  carried  it  in  her  bosom. 

"Arnaut  Daniel  and  Gaucelm  Faidit,  two 
friends  of  Richard's,  followed,  Daniel  giving 
them  the  romance  of  Sir  Launcelot  du  Lac. 
Then  came  Bertran  de  Born  with  a  ringing 
battle-hymn,  in  honour  of  no  lady,  but  of  the 
warlike  race  of  the  Plantagenets  ;  and  Peire 
Vidal  sang  to  Alazais,  wife  of  the  Viscount  of 
Marseilles,  and  Tomiers  of  Tarascon  to  a  fair 
one  of  Avignon.  Time  would  fail  us  to  give 
the  names  of  the  votaries  of  '  the  Gay  Science ' 
who  graced  the  occasion.  Richard  and  Blon- 
del  replied  to  each  other  in  the  tenson  which 
was  afterwards  so  famous ;  and,  while  awards 


The  Lodestones  of  Love         251 

in  special  classes  were  won  by  others,  it  was 
evident  from  the  burst  of  universal  applause 
that  popular  vote  decreed  the  golden  laurels 
to  Prince  Richard. 

"  A  flush  of  gratified  pride  mounted  to  the 
Queen's  brow,  and  she  was  about  in  mock 
modesty  to  ask  for  a  vote  rather  than  herself 
give  the  prize  to  her  son,  when  the  herald 
struck  the  heart-shaped  shield  suspended  on  a 
lance  in  front  of  the  poets'  rostrum,  in  token 
that  a  trouvere  or  prose  story-teller  from  the 
East  desired  to  exhibit  his  skill.  The  young 
man  was  announced  as  Berenger,  Cher  eke  le 
monde,  a  wanderer.  He  was  a  slight  youth 
robed  in  a  scholar's  gown,  though  he  carried  a 
pilgrim's  wallet  and  staff,  and  wore  the  cockle- 
shell upon  his  cap.  He  made  a  low  obeisance 
and  related  his  story  in  the  following  words : 

"  '  Be  it  known  to  you,  most  noble  lady,  that 
there  existed  many  centuries  ago  in  the  mount- 
ains of  Persia  a  famous  mine  of  carbuncles, 
gems  somewhat  resembling  rubies,  but  larger 
and  darker,  so  that  whereas  a  ruby  is  of  the 
joyous  colour  of  wine  when  the  sunlight  plays 
lovingly  through  it,  and  it  sparkles  in  the 
glass,  a  carbuncle  has  a  gloomy  and  ominous 
resemblance  to  a  drop  of  blood,  dark  and  lus- 


252  Feudal  Chateaux 

treless,  save  when  the  sun  strikes  it,  when  it 
glows  as  it  were  a  coal  of  living  fire. 

" '  The  carbuncles  in  the  mine  of  which  I 
speak  were  always  found  imbedded  by  nature 
in  iron  ore,  and  besides  being  unusually  large 
and  of  a  heart  shape,  they  had  peculiar  ma- 
gic qualities ;  for  it  was  soon  discovered  that 
those  who  carried  them  in  their  rough  state, 
whether  miners  or  merchants,  were  fortunate 
in  love,  so  that  the  stones  acquired  a  reputa- 
tion as  love  amulets. 

" '  This  property  was  lost  when  the  gems 
were  taken  from  their  native  bed  and  set  in 
gold  or  silver  ;  therefore  it  became  the  custom 
of  the  Saracen  artificers  to  mount  them  with  a 
portion  of  their  natural  rough  setting  in  iron 
rings  or  upon  steel  armour.  Some  of  these 
wonderful  carbuncles  were  brought  to  Toledo, 
which  after  Damascus  was  the  most  famous 
city  in  all  the  world  for  the  manufacture  of 
arms. 

"  '  At  first  the  carbuncles  were  in  great  de- 
mand. There  was  not  a  Moorish  warrior 
of  wealth  who  did  not  desire  to  have  one  of 
the  "  lodestones  of  love,"  as  they  were  called, 
set  upon  some  part  of  his  armour,  and  al- 
ways with  the  same  happy  result.  The  lady 
of  the  knight  so  bejewelled,  were  she  ever 


The  Lodestones  of  Love         253 

so  haughty  and  implacable,  speedily  became 
yielding ;  were  she  cold  and  unloving,  impas- 
sioned ;  were  she  jealous  and  suspicious,  then 
trustful ;  if  wronged,  forgiving ;  if  false,  then 
penitent ;  were  she  far  distant,  she  flew  to 
him,  and  if  there  were  obstacles  in  the  way  of 
their  union  they  were  all  speedily  and  magic- 
ally removed. 

" '  In  spite  of  these  desirable  and  ever  effica- 
cious qualities  these  lodestones  of  love  shortly 
lost  their  popularity,  for  it  was  observed,  after 
some  experiment,  that  only  those  who  were 
true  lovers  could  profit  by  their  spell.  When 
a  lady  had  been  false  to  her  lover,  and  he 
wore  one  of  these  carbuncles,  her  passion  for 
him  indeed  returned ;  but  she  died  within  a 
night  and  a  day  after  her  forgiveness.  If  the 
knight  wandered  from  his  allegiance,  he  might 
do  so  with  impunity  so  long  as  he  ,wore  not 
the  fateful  gems,  but  if  he  repented  his  fickle- 
ness and  sought  their  aid  to  make  peace  with 
his  true  love,  they  were  immediately  reconciled, 
— and  his  death  as  infallibly  followed. 

" '  It  will  be  easily  understood  that  such  incon- 
venient conditions  could  not  be  popular  with 
the  followers  of  Islam,  to  whom  their  prophet 
allowed  a  multiplicity  of  loves.  The  rule  of 
a  single  love  was  too  tyrannical  for  them ; 


254  Feudal  Chateaux 

the  lodestones  of  love  were  soon  a  drug  in 
the  market,  and  the  merchants  ceased  to 
import  them,  or  the  miners  to  search  for  them, 
and  an  earthquake  taking  place  in  that 
country,  the  mine  was  filled  and  all  traces  of 
it  were  lost. 

"  '  In  the  reign  of  Abd-ur-Rahman,  however, 
ideas  of  chivalry,  doubtless  gained  from  the 
observation  of  the  manner  of  life  of  the  French 
knights,  sprang  up  among  the  noblest  of  the 
Mohammedan  youth  of  Spain.  The  Sultan's 
bodyguard  was  composed  of  .  the  horsemen 
of  Irak,  the  very  flower  of  soldanrie.  Fifty 
young  princes  of  this  body  bound  themselves 
by  a  vow  to  be  true  to  one  love  only,  and 
gave  order  to  the  armourers  of  Toledo  that 
their  harness  should  be  studded  with  the 
magic  carbuncles.  There  was  great  trouble 
in  filling  the  order,  for  the  gems  had  by  this 
time  become  somewhat  scarce,  but  the  knights 
were  wealthy,  and  requisition  being  made 
publicly  throughout  Spain,  every  carbuncle 
in  the  kingdom  was  brought  to  Toledo,  and 
the  full  complement  was  at  length  furnished. 
Never  had  been  seen  more  beautiful  armour  ; — 
for  besides  having  their  tunics  of  chain  mail 
ornamented  with  baldrics,  set  with  the  car- 
buncles, extending  from  shoulder  to  thigh  and 


The  Lodestones  of  Love         255 

supporting  the  scimitar,  the  same  gems  orna- 
mented their  carcanets  (or  collars)  and  glowed 
along  the  helmet,  from  which  depended  the 
coif  of  steel  links  that  defended  the  throat. 
Besides  the  decorations  afforded  by  the  jewels, 
the  hilts  and  scabbards  of  their  scimitars  were 
encrusted  with  other  precious  stones,  the 
blades  were  damascened  with  mottoes  from 
the  Koran  in  gold  and  silver,  and  the  device 
of  each  knight  was  emblazoned  in  the  same 
manner  upon  his  shield. 

"  '  These  knights  were  among  the  bravest  as 
well  as  the  handsomest  and  noblest  of  their 
people,  and  were  the  crest  of  that  tidal  wave 
which  swept  all  before  it  and  reached  its  high- 
water  mark  before  the  city  of  Tours,  when 
the  God  of  battles  rebuked  them  through  our 
valiant  Charles  Martel,  saying :  "  Thus  far 
shalt  thou  come  and  no  farther,  and  here  shall 
thy  proud  waves  be  stayed."  On  that  great 
day  of  battle  there  were  slain  the  Sultan  Abd- 
ur-Rahman  and  the  greater  part  of  his  army, 
— and  of  the  fifty  knights  of  Irak  not  one  re- 
turned to  Spain. 

"  *  There  is  a  tradition  that,  as  they  carried  on 
their  campaign  through  our  smiling  countries, 
the  beautiful  maids  of  Navarre  and  still  more 
lovely  ladies  of  Provence  seduced  many  a 


256  Feudal  Chateaux 

knight  of  the  lodestone  from  his  allegiance  ; 
but  when  such  was  the  case  he  had  the  magic 
pieces  of  armour  replaced  by  others  of  a  plainer 
but  less  dangerous  sort.  On  the  eve  of  the 
battle  of  Tours  the  Moorish  commander  noted 
the  altered  appearance  of  this  elite  corps  and 
bade  them  adorn  themselves  on  the  morrow 
in  their  most  gorgeous  panoply.  Perhaps 
they  had  come  to  be  sceptical  and  disbelieved 
in  the  spell,  or  perchance  some  of  them  on 
the  eve  of  battle,  in  the  presence  of  near  death, 
repented  their  wanderings ;  at  all  events  the 
knights  went  into  the  charge  with  the  car- 
buncles reddening  their  armour  like  splashes  of 
blood.  And  the  spell  wrought  even  at  that 
distance,  for  by  the  fountains  of  Cordova  the 
ladies  of  these  knights  felt  such  pricking  of 
heart  that  they  mounted  on  swift  palfreys,  and 
journeying  night  and  day,  reached  the  field 
two  days  after  the  battle.  And  there  among 
the  dead  they  found  their  mortally  wounded 
lords,  whose  souls  could  not  leave  their  agon- 
ised bodies  until  they  had  received  the  forgive- 
ness of  their  beloved.' 

"  The  young  trouvere  ceased  his  recital,  and 
Queen  Eleanor  was  about  to  speak  when 
Richard  rose  and  bowing  gracefully,  said  : 

"  '  By  your  leave,  dear  mother  and  Queen  of 


The  Lodestones  of  Love         257 

this  gracious  court,  I  pray  the  boon  to  ask 
this  sweet  youth  what  became  of  the  fifty  suits 
of  jewelled  armour.' 

" '  They  were  never  heard  of  more,'  replied 
the  trouvere.  'It  is  supposed  that  the  Moor- 
ish ladies  carried  them  back  to  Spain,  but 
they  were  never  seen  thereafter  in  any  joust 
or  battle.' 

" '  And  thou,  my  lady  mother,  who  hast  fol- 
lowed a  Crusade  to  the  Holy  Land,  and  hast 
met  many  of  the  Saracen  princes  at  Antioch 
and  Jerusalem,  hast  thou  marked  a  coat  of 
mail  thus  bedizened  ? ' 

"  'Jewelled  mail  and  weapons  have  I  seen  in 
great  profusion,'  Queen  Eleanor  replied.  '  It 
was  reported  that  the  armour  of  Sultan  Nou- 
reddin  blazed  with  diamonds.  Now  that  I 
mind  me,  there  was  a  young  Emir  named 
Saladin  who  affected  only  red  stones.  They 
may  have  been  carbuncles.' 

"'Then,'  said  Richard,  'I  swear  that  I  will 
go  a  Crusader,  not  so  much  to  deliver  Jerusa- 
lem, as  to  seek  out  this  Saladin  and  recover 
from  him  his  enchanted  armour.' 

"  The  Queen  turned  pale.  '  Make  not,  my 
son,  such  a  rash  and  silly  promise,'  she  said 
sternly.  '  The  cross  of  the  Crusader  cannot 
be  assumed  for  so  trivial  a  purpose,  and  it 


258  Feudal  Chateaux 

would  ill  betide  thee  to  meet  Saladin,  for  he  is 
a  conqueror  in  war  as  in  love,  and  there  can 
be  none  of  the  lodestones  of  love  among  his 
jewels,  or  he  would  long  since  have  died  as  a 
penalty  of  his  infidelity. 

" '  But  we  interrupt  the  proceedings  of  this 
court  by  our  vain  discussion.  This  youth  hath 
so  eclipsed  the  other  singers,  both  in  the  inge- 
nuity of  his  tale  and  in  the  art  of  its  delivery, 
that  I  here  confer  upon  him  the  golden  laurels 
and  crown  him  king  of  this  contest.' 

"  Berenger  was  pushed  forward  reluctantly. 
'  Most  noble  Queen,'  he  said,  stammering  and 
blushing,  '  I  pray  your  indulgence,  but  I  can 
in  nowise  accept  the  meed  you  are  pleased  to 
grant  to  my  poor  efforts,  both  in  respect  to 
their  lack  of  merit  as  regards  those  of  these 
other  noble  gentlemen,  and  especially  the  ten- 
son  of  your  princely  son.' 

" '  There  can  be  but  one  judge  of  merit 
here,'  Eleanor  replied,  somewhat  piqued. 
'  Dost  thou,  presumptuous  youth,  dare  to 
usurp  that  office  or  question  my  authority?' 

"  *  Nay,  royal  lady,  but  there  is  another  rea- 
son— this  prize  is  granted  to  the  troubadour 
Berenger.' 

"  '  And  art  thou  not  he  ? ' 

"  '  Nay  ;  pardon  me, — I  am  she,  Berengaria, 


The  Lodestones  of  Love         259 

who  has  assumed  this  disguise  and  entered 
this  contest  out  of  wantonness  of  play,  which 
I  cannot  carry  so  far  as  to  accept  this  unmer- 
ited reward ' ;  and  lifting  her  boy's  cap,  a  shower 
of  golden  hair  fell  to  the  waist  of  the  sportive 
maid. 

"  The  Queen  strove  to  speak,  but  an  uproar 
of  laughter  drowned  her  voice.  When  the 
merriment  had  subsided  Richard  again  strode 
forward,  and  begged  grace  for  the  culprit. 

" '  She  shall  be  absolved,'  said  the  Queen 
graciously,  '  from  the  disrespect  shown  this 
august  court  by  the  deception  which  she  has 
practised  upon  it  in  her  frolicsome  prank ;  and 
inasmuch  as  thy  tenson,  my  Richard,  is  marred 
by  the  cankerworm  of  jealousy  and  unfaith,  and 
the  romancdro  of  Berengaria  breathes  the  true 
spirit  of  the  chivalry  of  love,  we  decree  to  thee 
and  to  Blondel  these  silver  roses  gnawed  by 
emerald  worms,  but  to  Berengaria  the  perfect 
golden  laurels, — and  proclaim  her,  until  the 
next  sitting  of  our  court,  the  Queen  of  all 
Troubadours.' 

"  Richard  led  forward  the  Lady  Berengaria, 
and  both  received  their  prizes  amidst  the  ap- 
plause of  the  court. 

"  That  evening,  a  glorious  moonlit  one,  the 
troubadours  practised  their  serenades  and  bar- 


260  Feudal  Chateaux 

caroles ;  and  many  a  lover  touched  the  lute 
beneath  his  lady's  window,  or  sang  his  boat- 
song  to  the  dip  of  the  oars,  as  he  rowed  her 
in  his  light  bark  upon  the  Garonne.  The 
night  was  given  to  wooing,  and  hearts  and 
pledges  were  exchanged  in  ardent  practice  of 
the  principles  which  had  been  enunciated  dur- 
ing the  day ;  for  the  next  ceremony  of  the 
festival,  which  would  take  place  on  the  mor- 
row, would  be  the  public  announcement  of 
betrothals,  for  which  the  approval  of  Queen 
Eleanor  was  besought.  This  was  not  a  mere 
empty  form,  for,  as  Suzeraine  Lady  of  Aqui- 
taine,  she  had  the  right  to  forbid  any  alliances 
between  families  owing  her  fealty. 

"  Among  the  couples  who  were  made  happy 
on  the  next  day  by  an  exchange  of  plighted 
troth  were  Richard's  friend  and  companion  in 
arms,  Hugh  de  Lusignan,  Count  of  Marche, 
and  Isabelle,  the  young  daughter  of  the  Count 
of  Angouleme,  who  held  as  her  dowry  the 
province  of  Angoumois.  These  two  provinces, 
Angoumois  and  Marche,  divided  Eleanor's  pos- 
sessions of  Poitou  and  Aquitaine  ;  and  as  the 
Plantagenet  provinces  of  Anjou  and  Touraine 
were  bordered  by  Poitou  on  the  south,  and 
were  themselves  extended  by  Brittany  and 
Normandy,  Angoumois  and  Marche  were  the 


The  Lodestones  of  Love         261 

only  possible  gap  in  all  that  western  sweep  of 
the  possessions  of  the  King  and  Queen  of 
England  in  France.  They  were  therefore 
strategic  points,  and  Eleanor  recognised  the 
importance  of  winning  Lusignan's  fealty  from 
the  King  of  France,  and  securing  his  allegiance 
to  England.  She  accordingly  encouraged  the 
friendship  which  had  sprung  up  between  Hugh 
and  Richard,  and  gave  her  most  loving  a*ccord 
to  the  desired  betrothal.  According  to  the 
custom  of  the  day  the  bride-elect  was  given 
into  the  guardianship  of  the  family  of  her  be- 
trothed,' and  left  her  father  and  mother  to 
reside  at  the  castle  of  Lusignan. 

"  Eleanor  was  less  pleased  with  the  alliance 
which  was  next  proposed,  but  as  neither  of  the 
young  people  owed  any  fealty  to  Aquitaine, 
the  Queen  of  the  Court  of  Love  graciously 
accorded  her  benison  on  the  suit  of  young 
Thibault  of  Champagne,  who  besought  the 
hand  of  Blanche,  Princess  of  Navarre,  sister 
of  Berengaria.  But  when  Raymond  of  Tou- 
louse begged  that  the  next  Court  of  Love, 
might  sit  at  Carcassonne,  the  strongest  fortress 
of  Eastern  Provence,  and  that  Queen  Eleanor 
would  deign  to  preside  as  now,  receiving  the 
keys  of  the  castle  in  token  that  the  old  quarrel 
for  the  possession  of  Langue  d'  Oc  was  hap- 


262  Feudal  Chateaux 

pily  settled  by  his  marriage  with  the  Princess 
Joan,  the  Queen  angrily  refused  to  listen  to 
his  proposition,  and  summarily  adjourned  the 
court. 

"  One  other  pair  of  suppliants  would  have 
besought  her  grace  if  Richard  could  then 
have  acted  according  to  the  dearest  wish  of 
his  heart ;  but,  like  most  princes,  he  had  no 
freedom  of  choice,  having  been  contracted  by 
his  father  to  the  Princess  Alix,  sister  of  the 
King  of  France.  The  engagement  had  been 
entered  into  when  Richard  was  seven  and  the 
little  Princess  three.  Now,  though  nearly 
twenty  years  had  elapsed  since  the  Princess 
had  been  given  into  the  care  of  King  Henry 
to  be  given  an  English  education,  as  befitted 
her  future  position,  she  was  kept  at  Win- 
chester, and  Richard  was  not  allowed  to 
meet  his  promised  bride.  Since  Richard  had 
heard  Berengaria  tell  her  legend  this  priva- 
tion had  not  seemed  to  him  so  grievous.  He 
had  been  reading  a  poem  which  a  minstrel 
from  Normandy  had  submitted  to  him,  the 
Romaunt  of  the  Rose,  by  Guillaume  de  Lorris, 
and  it  chimed  with  his  own  feelings.  The  poet 
sang, 

'  Harde  is  his  heart  that  loveth  nought 
In  May,  when  all  this  mirth  is  wrought, 


The  Lodestones  of  Love         263 

When  he  may  on  these  brannches  here 
The  smalle  birdes  singen  clere 
Hir  blissful  swete  song  piteous, 
And  in  this  season  deliteous  : 

Within  my  twentie  yeere  of  age 
When  that  love  taketh  his  courage 
Of  younge  folke — 
Joliffe  and  gay,  full  of  gladnesse 
Toward  a  river  gan  I  me  dresse.' 

"  This  reminded  him  that  he  had  composed  a 
barcarole,  which  he  had  promised  to  sing  to- 
night to  Berengaria,  on  the  moon-silvered  Ga- 
ronne. He  caught  up  his  lute  and  his  cap 
with  the  troubadour's  peacock  plume,  when 
his  mother  entered  the  room.  Her  manner 
showed  deep  disquietude,  but  Richard,  in  his 
preoccupation,  did  not  notice  it.  He  took  her 
in  his  arms  and  told  her  of  his  love  for  Beren- 
garia. '  I  shall  demand  of  your  grace  at  your 
court  to-morrow  to  absolve  me  from  my  vows 
to  the  Princess  Alix,'  he  said  gaily,  '  and  the 
jury  will  surely  grant  my  plea.' 

"  The  look  of  pain  in  his  mother's  eyes  deep- 
ened, so  that  now  he  could  not  fail  to  note  it. 

'"It  is  what  would  pleasure  most  your  false 
betrothed  and  falser  father,'  she  replied  in  a 
choked  voice. 

"'  How  so?'  Richard  demanded. 


264  Feudal  Chateaux 

"  '  John  has  just  arrived  from  England.  He 
tells  me  that  it  is  certain  that  Henry  loves  his 
ward  with  more  than  fatherly  affection,  and 
that  he  is  inquiring  as  to  the  possibility  of  a 
divorce  from  me.' 

"  Richard  swore  a  terrible  oath:  ''Par  le  gorge 
de  Dieu,  my  mother  shall  never  be  so  dishon- 
oured !  It  is  an  insult  to  me  as  well.  Alix  is 
my  affianced  bride.  The  King  of  France  shall 
help  me  demand  my  right  to  his  sister.' 

"  Eleanor  smiled  sadly.  '  And  is  Berengaria 
forgotten  so  soon  ? '  she  asked. 

"  '  Berengaria  shall  decide  for  me,'  Richard 
groaned.  And  Berengaria  nobly  bade  him 
be  true  to  his  engagements,  and  refused  to 
listen  to  the  love  of  a  man  who  was  betrothed 
to  another. 

"  Among  the  fantastical  questions  brought  up 
on  the  morrow  was  one  mooted  by  Prince 
John. 

"  '  While  dancing  with  that  fair  and  tricksy 
little  maid,  Isabelle  of  Angouleme,'  he  as- 
serted, '  I  besought  her  for  her  love.  Where- 
upon she  made  answer  that  she  had  just  been 
affianced  to  Hugh  de  Lusignan  ;  but  that  if 
ever  a  time  should  arrive  when  she  should  be 
deprived  of  this  lover,  she  would  then  give  ear 
to  my  prayers,  and  adopt  me  for  his  successor. 


The  Lodestones  of  Love         265 

I  therefore  make  inquisition  whether  it  is  per- 
mitted me  to  compass  this  gentleman's  death.' 

"The  question  was  asked  in  sport,  for  Isabelle 
was  a  mere  child.  John's  affections  at  this  time 
were  supposed  to  be  otherwise  enlisted,  and 
no  one  foresaw  the  terrible  feud  which  the 
girl's  favour  would  create  between  himself  and 
Lusignan. 

"  Eleanor's  answer  was  characteristic  of  her 
bright  wit  and  easy  morality. 

"  '  There  need  be  no  quarrel,'  she  gave  sen- 
tence, '  for  we  are  not  inclined  to  controvert 
the  decision  of  the  Countess  of  Champagne 
(made  at  a  Court  of  Love  held  under  her 
jurisdiction),  to  the  effect  that  true  love  can- 
not exist  between  married  people.  This,  a 
solemn  and  deliberate  decree  of  the  afore- 
mentioned court,  ought  to  hold  good.  There- 
fore, Prince  John  has  but  to  wait  until  the 
couple  are  married,  for  then  in  gaining  a  hus- 
band the  Lady  Isabelle  will  have  lost  her 
lover,  and  her  conditions  will  be  fulfilled.' 

"When  the  gay  encampment  broke  up,  and 
the  silken  pavilions  were  struck,  as  many  aching 
as  happy  hearts  wended  homeward  from  the 
Court  of  Love, — the  last  which  Queen  Eleanor 
was  to  hold  in  romantic  Provence,  for  now  fol- 
lowed her  imprisonment  by  her  husband,  at 


266  Feudal  Chateaux 

Winchester,  and  the  stormy  period  during 
which  Henry  was  at  war  in  France  with  his  sons 
and  with  the  Comte  de  Toulouse. 

"  After  the  latter  had  been  subjugated 
Richard  met  his  father  at  Chinon.  It  was  an  un- 
satisfactory meeting  for  both,  for  Richard,  who 
was  passionately  attached  to  his  mother,  called 
his  father  to  account  for  her  imprisonment,  de- 
manded to  be  recognised  as  heir  to  the  throne 
of  England,  and  to  be  told  the  King's  inten- 
tions in  regard  to  the  Princess  Alix.  The 
King  equivocated, — he  would  promise  nothing; 
as  for  Richard's  betrothed,  he  could  not  give 
her  up  either  to  Richard  or  to  her  brother,  the 
King  of  France,  for  the  young  lady,  though 
she  should  never  wed  Richard,  might  still  be- 
come the  Queen  of  England.  It  was  not 
strange  that,  never  having  been  associated 
with  her  betrothed,  she  should  care  more  for 
his  brother  John,  with  whom  she  had  been 
brought  up.  The  King  counselled  Richard  to 
give  her  up  peaceably. 

"What  the  fiery  Prince  heard  did  indeed 
strengthen  Richard's  determination  to  give  up 
the  Princess  Alix,  but  not  peaceably.  Whether 
it  was  John  or  his  father  who  had  stolen  the 
affections  of  his  betrothed  dicl  not  greatly 
matter.  He  felt  himself  insulted  in  either 


The  Lodestones  of  Love         267 

case,  and  saw  plainly  that  his  father  intended 
to  continue  his  mother's  imprisonment,  and  to 
set  aside  his  own  rights  in  favour  of  his  younger 
brother  John.  He  disguised  his  anger,  but 
fled  from  Chinon  that  night,  and  did  homage 
to  Philip,  calling  upon  him  to  maintain  his  own 
heirship  to  the  throne  of  England.  Philip  was 
smarting  under  the  loss  of  Toulouse  and  he 
saw  the  advantage  of  an  alliance  with  Richard. 
They  swore  to  defend  each  other  and  each 
other's  interests,  and  were  so  inseparable  that 
they  slept  in  the  same  bed  and  drank  from  the 
same  cup.  The  Pope  was  calling  for  a  cru- 
sade, Saladin  was  overrunning  the  Holy  Land, 
and  Richard  and  Philip  vowed  to  undertake 
one  together  as  soon  as  Richard's  rights  were 
established.  Philip  insisted,  too,  that  the 
engagement  with  his  sister  should  be  consum- 
mated, and  called  upon  King  Henry  to  restore 
the  Princess  or  he  would  come  for  her. 

"  But  fiery  old  King  Henry  did  not  wait  to  be 
attacked.  With  such  forces  as  he  could  raise 
he  advanced  to  Le  Mans,  where  he  was  besieged 
and  routed  by  Philip.  Fleeing  from  the  city 
he  rode  madly  back  to  Chinon,  where  his  over- 
exertion,  rage,  and  disappointment  threw  him 
into  a  burning  fever.  Philip  followed  him, 
took  Tours,  and  summoned  Henry  to  meet 


268  Feudal  Chateaux 

him  at  Colombieres.  Though  very  ill  he 
rode  out  and  kept  the  appointment  in  a  vio- 
lent thunder-storm,  fainting  after  signing  a 
humiliating  peace.  He  returned  to  Chinon, 
where  for  several  days  he  lay  dying,  muttering: 
'  Shame  on  a  conquered  king.' 

"  One  faithful  son  there  was  who  was  at  his 
side  on  the  mad  rout  from  le  Mans,  who 
nursed  him  tenderly,  sent  word  to  Richard 
that  his  father  was  dying,  and  held  him  in  his 
arms  when  he  expired,  robed  his  body  in  royal 
state,  and  caused  it  to  be  borne  across  the 
bridge  which  he  had  built  to  connect  the  castle 
with  the  abbey.  Could  this  have  been  written 
of  the  King's  best  beloved  son,  John,  it  would 
have  covered  a  multitude  of  sins;  but  John  had 
treacherously  signed  the  French  alliance,  and 
it  was  his  name  on  the  list  which  Philip  showed 
him  that  broke  the  old  King's  heart.  The  son 
who  was  so  faithfully  filial  had  least  reason  to 
be  so,  for  he  was  William  Longsword,  the  child 
of  Henry  and  the  deeply  wronged  fair  '  Rosa- 
monde'  Clifford,  whose  bower  at  Woodstock 
Eleanor  discovered  from  the  bit  of  floss  silk 
on  her  husband's  spur.  The  romantic  legend 
states  that,  wondering  where  the  King  could 
have  picked  up  this  dainty  follower,  Eleanor 
cleverly  detached  the  silk  without  attracting 


The  Lodestones  of  Love         269 

his  notice,  and  afterwards,  following  the  clue, 
assured  herself  of  his  unfaith.  It  was  a  double 
perfidy,  for  Rosamonde  believed  herself  a  law- 
ful wife,  and  on  learning  the  truth  retired  to 
Godstow  Nunnery. 

"  Richard  obeyed  the  summons  of  his  half- 
brother,  and  threw  himself  before  his  father's 
body  in  an  agony  of  remorse,  vainly  seeking 
forgiveness  from  the  lifeless  clay.  As  he 
touched  his  father's  hand  a  drop  of  blood  ap- 
peared beneath  the  nostril,  and  Richard,  recog- 
nising the  sign  by  which  a  corpse  was  supposed 
to  designate  its  murderer,  exclaimed  in  horror, 
'  It  is  true.  It  is  I  who  have  killed  him.' 

"  He  left  Chinon,  taking  with  him  Long- 
sword,  who  was  ever  after  his  loved  companion. 
A  bat  flew  in  his  face  as  he  rode  across  the  draw- 
bridge, seemingly  opposing  his  departure,  and 
he  told  his  brother  the  legend  of  Mabile,  add- 
ing :  '  Is  it  any  wonder  that  we  are  accursed, 
seeing  that  we  are  descended  from  Satan  ?  His 
imps  haunt  this  castle  still ;  I  shall  never  return 
to  it  again.'  There  was  no  familiar  spirit  at 
hand  to  foretell  that  he  was  doomed  to  return 
in  exactly  ten  years,  mortally  wounded,  to  die 
where  his  father  had  died,  and  be  buried  at  his 
feet. 

"  His  first  act  now  was  to  liberate  his  mother, 


2  ;o  Feudal  Chateaux 

and  to  order  that  the  Princess  Alix  should  be 
sent  back  to  her  brother.  He  was  so  impa- 
tient to  set  out  upon  his  Crusade  that  he  could 
hardly  await  his  coronation  and  appoint  his 
mother  regent.  The  treasurer  of  the  kingdom 
raised  an  enormous  sum  to  defray  the  ex- 
penses of  this  expedition,  which  Richard  quickly 
undertook. 

"He  had  named  Messina  as  the  trysting- 
place,  where  he  would  join  forces  with  King 
Philip  for  the  voyage  to  Palestine.  He  had  a 
brotherly  duty  to  perform  here,  for  his  sister 
Joan  had  been  married  to  the  King  of  Sicily, 
but  on  the  death  of  her  husband  Tancred 
had  usurped  her  dominions,  and  confined  the 
widowed  Queen  a  close  prisoner  in  the  castle. 
Before  departing  on  the  expedition  Richard 
confided  to  his  mother  his  love  for  Beren- 
garia,  and  the  Queen,  right  pleased,  set  out  for 
Navarre,  to  ask  her  of  her  father.  She  pro- 
spered so  well  in  her  mission  that  the  Princess 
went  with  her  to  Italy  to  meet  and  marry 
Richard  and  accompany  him  on  the  Crusade. 

"  Richard  on  his  arrival  at  Messina  speedily 
brought  Tancred  to  terms  and  secured  liberty 
and  a  moneyed  indemnity  for  his  sister  Joan. 
But  he  had  a  harder  task  in  persuading  the  wily 
Philip  to  release  him  from  his  engagement  to 


The  Lodestones  of  Love         271 

Alix.  Philip  argued  that  his  sister's  dower,  the 
city  of  Gisors,  had  been  accepted  by  King 
Henry.  Piers  of  Langtoft  in  his  quaint  poem 
gives  Richard's  answer  : 

* "  Now,"  said  King  Richard,  "  that  menace  may  not  be, 
For  thou  shalt  have  ward  of  Gisors  thy  citee 

And  treasure  ilk  a  deal." 

Richard  yielded  him  his  right,  his  treasure,  and  his  town, 
Before  witness  at  sight, 

(Of  clerke  and  eke  baron,) 

His  sister  he  might  marry,  wherever  God  might  like, 
And  to  make  certainty,  Richard  a  quittance  took.' 

"  When  Eleanor  and  Berengaria  arrived  in 
Messina  it  was  Lent,  an  impossible  season  for 
marriage,  and  as  the  Queen  could  not  tarry 
longer  from  her  regency  in  England — 

'  She  beleft  Berengere, 

At  Richard's  costage, 
Queen  Joanne  held  her  dear, 
They  lived  as  doves  in  cage.' 

"  Richard  led  his  fleet  of  fifty  ships  and  fifty 
galleys  in  the  Tronc  du  Mer.  The  two  ladies 
followed  in  one  of  the  strongest  ships,  and  the 
wedding  took  place  at  Easter,  in  the  island  of 
Cyprus. 

"  '  On  their  arrival  at  Acre,'  says  Bernard 
le  Tresorier,  '  it  was  very  grievous  to  the  King 
of  France  to  know  that  Richard  was  married  to 
any  other  than  to  his  sister;  yet  he  received 


272  Feudal  Chateaux 

Berengaria  with  great  courtesy,  taking  her  in 
his  arms  and  lifting  her  on  shore  himself  from 
the  boat  to  the  beach.' 

[Richard's  exploits  in  Palestine  have  been 
too  often  recounted  in  history  and  romance,  to 
be  dwelt  upon  here.  It  is  the  fashion  of  these 
later  days  to  decry  Scott,  but  the  man  or 
woman  who  has  not  been  brought  up  on  the 
Waverley  novels,  can  never  have  quite  the  same 
love  for  knightly  days  and  deeds,  and  has 
lost  much  of  the  charm  of  life.  To  Scott  we 
refer  the  reader  for  Richard's  career  during  the 
next  seven  years.] 

"  Returning,  as  they  had  set  out,  in  separate 
vessels,  that  which  bore  Berengaria  and  Joan 
arrived  safely  at  Naples.  At  Marseilles  the 
ladies  were  met  by  Raymond,  son  of  the  Count 
of  Toulouse,  who  was  himself  returning  from 
the  Crusade,  who  offered  his  escort  to  protect 
them  on  their  journey  through  his  father's 
domain  to  Aquitaine.  He  had  not  met  Joan 
since  the  memorable  Court  of  Love,  but  he 
renewed  his  suit,  and  Eleanor,  learning  how 
long  and  faithfully  he  had  loved  her,  did  not 
now  refuse  her  consent.  Eleanor's  heart  was 
possibly  softened  by  grief ;  and  now  a  terrible 
anxiety  arose  for  both  her  and  for  Berengaria. 
Richard's  ship  had  not  been  heard  from  since 


it  set  sail  from  Palestine,  and,  assuming  that  it 
had  suffered  shipwreck  and  that  all  on  board 
were  drowned,  John  clamoured  for  the  kingdom. 
Eleanor  steadfastly  opposed  him ;  and  John 
entered  into  an  alliance  with  Philip,  promis- 
ing to  marry  the  poor  Princess  Alix,  who  had 
been  so  cheaply  bandied  back  and  forth.  In  re- 
turn he  was  to  have  only  England,  for  Rich- 
ard's French  possessions,  on  the  supposition 
of  his  death,  had  declared  for  young  Arthur  of 
Brittany,  the  son  of  Geoffrey  Plantagenet  and 
of  Constance. 

"  At  length  the  troubadour  Blondel,  wander- 
ing through  Austria,  heard  of  a  prisoner  in 
the  strong  fortress  of  Trifels  who  sang  French 
songs  to  cheer  his  captivity.  His  suspicions 
were  excited,  and  at  the  foot  of  the  tower  he 
sang  the  first  verse  of  the  tenson  which  he  and 
Richard  had  composed  together : 

'  Personne,  o  ma  charmante  dame, 

Ne  vous  voit  sans  vous  aimer. 
Mais  comment  attendrir  une  dme 

Qu  'aucun  jamais  ne  sut  charmer? 
Faut  il puisque  tous  se  desolent, 
Que  les  maux  d  'autrui  me  consolent  ? ' 

"  Scarcely  had  he  finished  when  the  powerful 
voice  of  Richard  replied  with  the  second 
stanza : 

18 


274  Feudal  Chateaux 


is,  nonjamais  une  dame 

N  'aura  d  'empire  sur  mon  cceur, 
St\  trap  prodigue  de  son  dme, 

Elle  a  pour  tous  une  faveur, 
Plutdt  loin  d  'une  telle  reine 
Laissez  moi  seule  porter  ma  peine. 

"  The  discovery  that  Richard  was  still  alive 
was  like  a  thunderbolt  to  the  plotters,  but 
Philip  and  John  did  not  quite  give  up  hope. 
He  was  in  prison,  and  for  any  help  of  theirs 
he  might  stay  there. 

"  Eleanor,  still  undaunted,  held  England  for 
him,  though  she  signed  herself  at  this  time, 
'  Eleanor,  by  the  Wrath  of  God  Queen  of 
England.'  It  was  now  that  she  wrote  her 
famous  letter  to  the  Pope,  endeavouring  to 
induce  him  to  order  Richard's  release. 

'  If  I  leave  my  son's  dominions,'  she  wrote,  '  invaded 
as  they  are  on  every  side,  they  will  on  my  departure  lose 
all  counsel  :  if  I  remain,  I  shall  not  behold  my  son  whose 
face  I  long  to  see.  There  will  be  none  to  labour  for  his 
redemption  ;  and  what  I  fear  the  most,  unused  as  his 
generous  youth  is  to  such  terrible  calamities,  he  will  not 
survive  all  he  has  to  endure.' 

"  At  length  Philip  sent  John  that  well-known 
message  :  '  Look  to  yourself,  for  the  devil  is 
unchained.' 

"  Richard  had  been  released  on  payment  of 
an  enormous  ransom  raised  in  great  part  by 


The  Lodestones  of  Love         275 

the  exertions  of  the  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury, the  second  son  of  Rosamonde  Clifford. 
John  threw  himself  upon  his  mercy. 

"  '  I  forgive  you,  John  '  said  his  brother, '  and 
I  wish  I  could  as  easily  forget  your  offence  as 
you  will  my  pardon.' 

"  But  Richard  could  not  so  easily  condone 
Philip's  double-dealing.  He  now  understood 
thoroughly  his  treacherous  character,  and  un- 
til his  dying  day  never  went  to  confession 
for  fear  that  he  would  be  obliged  to  forgive 
him. 

"He  forgave  even  Philip  at  last,  and  the 
archer  who  fired  the  poisoned  shaft  which 
killed  him.  He  was  of  a  magnanimous  nature 
and  it  was  easier  for  him  to  forgive  than  to 
cherish  a  grudge ;  but  when  he  believed  him- 
self forgotten  by  his  dearest  friends  his  heart 
grew  very  bitter,  as  is  shown  by  some  verses 
written  during  his  imprisonment : 

'  No  captive  knight,  whom  chains  confine, 
Can  tell  his  fate,  and  not  repine  ; 
Yet  with  a  song  he  cheers  the  gloom 
That  hangs  around  his  living  tomb. 
Shame  to  my  friends  !  the  king  remains 
Two  years  unransomed  and  in  chains. 

*  Now  let  them  know,  my  brave  barons, 
English,  Normans,  and  Gascons, 


276  Feudal  Chateaux 

Not  a  liegeman  so  poor  have  I 
That  I  would  not  his  freedom  buy. 
Oh,  what  a  blot  upon  their  name 
If  I  should  perish  thus  in  shame  ! 

'  Ye  Troubadours,  and  friends  of  mine, 
Brave  Chail,  noble  Pensauvine, 
Go,  tell  my  rivals,  in  your  song, 
This  heart  hath  never  done  them  wrong. 
He  infamy,  not  glory,  gains 
Who  leaves  a  monarch  in  his  chains.' 

"  Even  the  faithful  Berengaria  was  doubted. 
The  verse  of  the  tenson  with  which  he  had  re- 
plied to  Blondel  was  the  true  expression  of  his 
feelings  : 

*  No  longer  such  a  faithless  dame 

Shall  hold  dominion  o'er  my  heart. 
Quenched  is  her  feeble  flickering  flame 
And  I  alone  can  bear  my  smart.' 

"  Richard  cruelly  wronged  his  wife  by  these 
suspicions,  for  Berengaria  had  governed  Aqui- 
taine  for  him,  and  with  the  assistance  of  her 
brother,  Sancho  the  Strong,  had  kept  in  check 
the  grasping  hand  of  Philip.  But  some  mali- 
cious tongue  must  have  traduced  her,  for  on 
his  liberation  Richard  pushed  directly  to  Eng- 
land to  throw  himself  into  the  arms  of  his 
mother,  but  cruelly  slighted  his  sweet  wife. 
For  years  she  waited  patiently,  still  strangely 


The  Lodestones  of  Love         277 

doubted  and  neglected.  His  excuse  that  he 
had  now  no  time  for  dalliance  was  not  a  valid 
one, — though  it  is  true  that  after  his  return  he 
found  much  to  do.  In  spite  of  John's  treason, 
the  devotion  of  his  mother  and  the  zeal  of  the 
primate  had  held  the  heart  and  resources  of 
England  for  him,  but  he  realised  that  his 
French  possessions  were  slipping  from  his 
hands.  It  was  not  alone  Philip's  power  or 
treachery ;  the  loyalty  of  the  people  themselves 
was  wavering  :  '  Were  they  not  French  ?  why 
should  they  serve  an  English  king  ? ' 

"In  the  few  years  that  followed,  Richard 
showed  his  ability  as  a  ruler  and  his  military 
skill  as  never  before.  Heroic  in  action,  splen- 
did in  his  court,  gallant,  generous,  worshipped 
by  all  who  knew  him  whether  men  or  women, 
chivalric,  poetic,  fiery,  passionate  in  love  and 
hate,  but  none  so  courteous  to  a  conquered  foe, 
he  had  ever  been  ;  but  these  were  personal 
qualities  of  a  hero  of  romance  rather  than  the 
practical  abilities  necessary  for  the  success  of  a 
sovereign  ruling  indifferent  subjects  and  op- 
posed by  crafty  enemies.  To  the  astonishment 
of  friend  and  foe  Richard  now  showed  that  he 
possessed  the  very  sagacity  which  they  sup- 
posed he  lacked.  With  wisdom  and  tact  he 
won  back  the  faltering  allegiance  of  his  French 


278  Feudal  Chateaux 

barons.  Flanders  was  drawn  away  from  its 
French  alliance;  the  Counts  of  Chartres,  Cham- 
pagne, and  Boulogne  came  to  his  standard. 
He  subdued  the  rebels  of  Aquitaine,  and  made 
an  alliance  with  Germany  against  Philip ;  and 
while  carrying  on  these  shrewd  diplomatic 
campaigns  he  surprised  all  by  another  proof 
of  the  versatility  of  his  genius,  in  showing  that 
the  poet  was  equally  a  master  as  a  military 
engineer.  His  observation  of  the  systems  of 
Saracenic  and  Austrian  fortification  had  not 
been  thrown  away.  In  his  long  imprisonment 
he  had  not  spent  all  his  time  in  stringing 
together  tensons ;  but  he  had  thought  out 
combinations,  and  invented  new  methods  of 
defence,  which  now  lifted  him  to  the  rank  of 
the  first  engineer  and  architect  of  his  time. 
Viollet-le-Duc  awards  him  this  distinction,  and 
points  out  the  original  details  in  the  system  of 
fortification  which  he  introduced  in  his  Chateau 
Gaillard,  his  '  fille  d'un  an  '  which  now  rose  as 
by  magic  in  a  twelvemonth  on  a  strategic  point 
covering  Rouen,  a  site  chosen  with  the  keenest 
foresight  as  the  bastion  of  Normandy  against 
Philip.  *  Chateau  Gaillard,'  says  one  his- 
torian, '  is  the  greatest  monument — greater 
even  than  his  Eastern  exploits — of  the  genius 
of  Richard.'  And  Green  adds : 


The  Lodestones  of  Love         279 

'  As  a  monument  of  warlike  skill  this  "  Saucy  Castle  " 
stands  first  among  the  fortresses  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
Richard  fixed  its  site  where  the  Seine  bends  suddenly  at 
Gaillon  in  a  great  semicircle  to  the  north,  flashing  like  a 
silver  bow  on  its  way  to  Rouen.  The  castle  formed  part 
of  an  entrenched  camp  which  Richard  designed  to  cover 
his  Norman  capital.  Approach  by  the  river  was  blocked 
by  a  stockade  and  a  bridge  of  boats,  by  a  fort  on  the 
islet  in  midstream,  and  by  a  tower  on  the  bank.  On  a 
spur  of  the  chalk  hills  rose,  at  the  height  of  three  hun- 
dred feet  above  the  river,  the  crowning  fortress  of  the 
whole.  Its  outworks  have  for  the  most  part  gone,  but 
time  and  the  hand  of  man  have  done  little  to  destroy  the 
fortifications  themselves — the  fosse  hewn  deep  into  the 
solid  rock,  with  casements  hollowed  out  along  its  sides, 
the  fluted  walls  of  the  citadel,  the  huge  donjon,  looking 
down  on  the  brown  roofs  and  huddled  gables  of  Les 
Andelys.  Even  now  in  its  ruin  we  can  understand  the 
triumphant  outburst  of  its  royal  builder  as  he  saw  it  ris- 
ing against  the  sky  :  "  How  pretty  a  child  is  mine,  this 
child  of  but  one  year  old  !  " 

"  The  '  fluted  walls  '  of  which  Green  speaks 
were  not  merely  ornamental.  Indeed  there 
was  no  sculpture,  no  mouldings,  not  a  single 
feature  in  the  entire  castle  designed  simply  for 
ornament.  They  were  a  series  of  /tanking 
towers,  hitherto  unknown  in  France,  and  in 
their  arrangement  an  invention  of  Richard's. 
They  were  semicircular,  each  touching  the  other, 
and  making  in  plan  a  scalloped  line  with  the 
curves  on  the  outside,  the  precursor  of  the 


280  Feudal  Chateaux 

scarp  and  counterscarp  of  Vauban.  Richard 
did  not  follow  either  Norman  or  French  tradi- 
tions, but  by  the  use  of  these  and  other  origi- 
nal features  rendered  his  fortress  well-nigh 
impregnable  against  the  means  of  attack  then 
known. 

"  Philip  scoffed  at  the  report  of  these  new  in- 
ventions, and  vowed  that  he  would  take  the 
castle  though  it  were  made  of  iron.  Richard 
replied  with  the  vaunt  that  he  could  hold 
it  against  him  though  it  were  made  of  butter  ; 
and  indeed  it  was  the  general  who  held  the 
fortress  rather  than  the  strength  of  the  fortifi- 
cations that  Philip  feared.  As  long  as  Richard 
lived  Philip  dared  not  push  by  Gaillard  or 
attack  it,  and  if  John  had  not  been  as  incom- 
petent as  he  was  cowardly,  it  could  not  have 
been  taken,  and  Normandy  would  have  re- 
mained an  English  possession. 

"  Richard  had  accomplished  wonders  in 
strengthening  his  position,  but  he  had  lavished 
enormous  sums  and  was  in  great  need  of 
money.  It  was  in  the  spring  of  1199  that  a 
rumour  was  brought  that  an  enormous  treasure 
had  been  found  in  the  fields  of  Limousin  near 
the  castle  of  Chalus.  A  peasant  ploughing  had 
fallen  into  a  subterranean  cavern  which  rivalled 
that  of  Aladdin.  Twelve  golden  statues  of 


The  Lodestones  of  Love         281 

knights  of  life  size  were  seated  around  a  golden 
table,  which  was  laden  with  a  golden  service, 
heaped  with  jewels  instead  of  food.  Richard 
at  once  felt  himself  ravenously  hungry  to  par- 
take of  such  dainty  cheer,  and  sent  a  message 
to  that  effect  to  Lord  Vidomar  of  Limousin 
(his  vassal),  inviting  himself  to  the  banquet, 
and  urging  his  right  as  suzerain  to  the  lion's 
share  of  the  treasure-trove.  The  lord  replied 
that  no  such  treasure  had  been  discovered, 
only  a  few  suits  of  rusted  armour  with  bones 
within  them,  the  remains  doubtless  of  knights 
who  had  been  buried  there  years  before  after 
some  battle  with  the  Moors. 

"  Did  the  message  bring  up  the  old  story 
which  Berengaria  had  made  her  theme  at  the 
Court  of  Love  ?  or  was  it  simply  greed  for 
money  that  impelled  Richard  to  the  fateful 
assault  of  the  castle  of  Chalus  ? 

"  Hither  he  came  at  any  rate,  and  made  a  last 
demand  for  the  treasure.  His  vassal  lord  sent 
him  a  suit  of  antique  armour  of  peculiar  pat- 
tern, protesting  that  nothing  more  valuable 
had  been  discovered.  Richard  did  not  believe 
him,  considered  this  trifling  response  an  insult 
to  his  authority,  and  swore  to  take  the  castle 
clothed  in  this  travesty  on  his  power,  and  to 
hang  all  its  defenders.  While  girding  the 


282  Feudal  Chateaux 

rusty  harness  about  him  the  old  legend  must 
have  come  to  his  mind,  if  he  had  not  thought 
of  it  before,  for  on  the  shoulder-pieces  and 
belt  glowed  like  baleful  coals  the  magic  car- 
buncles. 

"  The  Lodestones  of  Love  had  not  lost  their 
power  during  their  long  burial. 

"  Joan,  Richard's  sister,  was  in  trouble.  The 
same  atrocities  to  which  her  son  was  afterwards 
subjected,  in  the  persecution  of  the  Albigenses, 
were  being  committed  upon  the  vassals  and 
castles  of  Toulouse  by  the  joint  machinations 
of  the  Pope  and  of  King  Philip.  Joan  hurried 
for  succour  to  her  old  friend  Berengaria,  to 
whom  a  messenger  had  just  brought  word  that 
Richard  was  on  the  border.  She  doubtless 
told  herself  that  it  was  the  need  of  his  sister 
which  broke  down  all  restraints  of  injured  dig- 
nity ;  but  Berengaria  felt  at  that  moment  the 
irresistible  drawing  of  the  most  powerful  of 
lodestones, — all-forgiving,  faithful  love, — and 
with  a  little  train  the  two  women  dashed  on  to 
Chalus. 

"  They  reached  the  English  only  to  learn  that 
Richard,  who  had  ventured  dangerously  near 
the  walls,  had  been  shot  in  the  shoulder  by  an 
arrow  from  an  arquebus,  the  corroded  links  that 
held  the  jewelled  shoulder-plate  having  broken. 


The  Lodestones  of  Love         283 

Though  the  castle  was  taken,  gangrene  had 
set  in,  and  the  King  lay  dying.  The  shock 
was  too  great  for  Joan,  who,  exhausted  by 
what  she  had  already  borne,  fell  dead  in  Beren- 
garia's  arms  at  the  news.  Berengaria  in  this 
terrible  calamity  showed  herself  the  heroine 
she  was,  and  had  the  inexpressible  happiness 
of  a  complete  reconciliation  with  her  husband 
before  his  death.  They  were  not  far  from 
Chinon,  and  to  that  fateful  home  of  the  brother 
and  sister  Berengaria  carried  the  dying  Rich- 
ard and  the  body  of  Joan.  Side  by  side  they 
lie  at  Fontevraud  at  the  feet  of  their  father 
and  mother,  a  peaceful  home-coming  at  last. 
Berengaria  retired  to  her  dower  city  of  le 
Mans,  and  here  she  founded  the  Abbey  of 
Espan  and  died  at  an  advanced  age.  It  would 
have  been  fitting  to  have  carried  her  to  Font- 
evraud, but  the  nuns  of  Espan  would  not  give 
up  the  body  of  the  royal  foundress  of  their 
abbey.  It  was  mistaken  devotion.  She  should 
have  been  laid  beside  Richard,  and  Matthew 
Arnold's  lines  would  seemingly  have  been 
written  of  them,  even  as  now,  with  slight 
change,  they  apply  to  the  carved  effigies  of 
Henry  and  Eleanor. 

'  So  rest,  for  ever  rest,  O  royal  pair  ! 
In  yon  high  church,  'mid  the  still  mountain  air, 


284  Feudal  Chateaux 

Where  horn  and  hound  and  vassals  never  come, 
Where  thou,  O  King,  shalt  nevermore  arise 
From  the  fringed  mattress  where  thy  consort  lies, 
On  autumn  mornings  when  the  bugle  sounds, 
And  ride  across  the  drawbridge  with  thy  hounds 
To  hunt  the  boar  in  the  crisp  woods  till  eve. 
And  thou,  O  lady,  shalt  no  more  receive, 
Thou  and  thy  maidens  in  the  hall  of  state, 
The  jaded  hunters  with  their  bloody  freight, 
Coming  benighted  to  the  castle  gate. 
So  sleep,  for  ever  sleep,  O  marble  pair  ! 
And  if  ye  wake,  let  it  be  then  when  fair 
On  the  carved  western  front  a  flood  of  light 
Streams  from  the  setting  sun,  and  colours  bright 
Prophets,  transfigured  saints,  and  martyrs  brave, 
In  the  vast  western  window  of  the  nave  ; 
And  on  the  pavement  round  the  tomb  there  glints 
A  checker-work  of  glowing  sapphire  tints, 
And  amethyst,  and  ruby  ;  then  unclose 
Your  eyelids  on  the  stone  where  ye  repose, 
And  from  your  broidered  pillows  lift  your  heads, 
And  rise  upon  your  cold  white  marble  beds, 
And  looking  down  on  the  warm,  rosy  tints 
That  checker  at  your  feet  the  illumined  flints, 
Say  :  What  is  this  ?  we  are  in  bliss,  forgiven  ; 
Behold  the  pavement  of  the  Courts  of  Heaven  I '" 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  SIEGE  OF  CHATEAU  GAILLARD 

But  one  short  year  had  passed  away 

When  Castle  Gaillard  rose, 
As  built  at  once  by  elfin  hands 

And  scorning  time  or  foes. 

It  might  be  thought  that  Merlin's  imps 

Were  tasked  to  raise  the  wall, 
That  unheard  axes  fell  the  woods, 

While  unseen  hammers  fall. 

As  hung  by  magic  on  a  rock 

The  castle  keep  looked  down 
O'er  rocks  and  rivers,  and  the  smoke 

Of  many  a  far-off  town. 

And  now  young  knights  and  minstrels  gay 

Obeyed  their  master's  call, 
And,  loud  rejoicing,  held  the  feast 

In  the  new-raftered  hall. 

WILLIAM  LISLE  BOWLES. 

LONG  after  our  visit  to  Chinon,  as  we  were 
on  the  point  of  leaving  France,  we  made 
a  flying  trip  from  Rouen  to  Chateau  Gaillard, 

285 


286  Feudal  Chateaux 

the  famous  fortress  built  by  Richard  Cceur  de 
Lion  to  enable  him  to  hold  Normandy. 

As  we  climbed  the  steep  cliff  we  were  filled 
with  admiration  for  the  genius  which  had  chosen 
this  wonderful  site,  rendered  almost  impreg- 
nable by  nature,  and  so  completely  command- 
ing the  Seine,  which  bent  lazily  around  it  in  a 
great  horseshoe  curve,  and  was  the  only  high- 
way to  the  Norman  capital  of  Rouen,  twenty 
miles  away.  Philip  would  never  have  taken 
the  fortress  if  the  master-mind  which  built  it 
had  commanded  at  the  time  of  the  siege ;  but 
Richard,  who  finished  Gaillard  in  1198,  was 
killed  before  Chalus  the  following  year,  and 
the  French  king  recognised  his  opportunity. 

We  stood  in  the  great  keep  and  wondered 
how  it  was  ever  taken.  We  had  asked  for 
a  guide  at  the  village  of  Little  Andelys,  and 
had  been  told  that  the  best  one  that  the  town 
afforded  was  now  conducting  a  party  about 
the  ruins.  He  was  a  little  "scattered,"  the 
innkeeper  said,  significantly  touching  his  head, 
as  to  matters  of  the  present  century,  but  none 
so  reliable  on  all  historical  points.  He  had 
studied  military  engineering  at  St.  Cyr  and 
had  assisted  Viollet-le-Duc  in  his  restorations 
at  Pierref onds.  H  e  was  a  crank  on  fortresses  ; 
we  might  rely  on  him  perfectly  for  anything 


The  Siege  of  Chateau  Gaillard     287 

before  Vauban — but  he  never  took  his  diploma 
at  the  Academy,  for  he  said  the  Dark  Ages 
were  so  interesting  that  he  did  not  care  to 
study  anything  after  the  invention  of  gun- 
powder. 

We  had  seen  no  one  about  the  ruins,  and 
quite  congratulated  ourselves  on  having 
escaped  the  "  scattered  one,"  who,  we  were 
persuaded,  must  be  a  great  bore  with  his  arch- 
aeological treatises.  We  sat  down  under  the 
walls  where  the  view  was  finest,  and  proceeded 
to  read  the  Lay  of  Talbot  the  Troubadour,  in 
which  William  Lisle  Bowles  tells  so  well  the 
story  of  the  finding  of  the  little  daughter  of 
the  Earl  of  Salisbury.  The  child  had  been 
stolen  by  the  French  while  Richard  was  build- 
ing Gaillard,  and  had  been  hidden  in  a  castle 
in  Normandy.  Talbot  offered  to  go  through 
the  country  disguised  as  a  wandering  minstrel 
and  discover  the  little  maid.  This  he  effected 
in  the  same  way  that  Blondel  found  Richard, 
— by  singing  familiar  ballads  beneath  the  castle 
walls. 

By  right  of  poetic  justice  Talbot  should 
have  been  rewarded  for  this  romantic  quest 
by  the  hand  of  the  little  heiress ;  but  Rich- 
ard favoured  his  half-brother,  for  his  love  for 
William  Longsword  had  become  a  passion 


288  Feudal  Chateaux 

since  the  night  when  he  found  that  the  son  of 
Rosamonde  Clifford  had  performed  the  last 
offices  due  to  King  Henry  from  his  legitimate 
but  rebellious  children.  On  one  of  those  high 
days  of  revelry  after  the  completion  of  the 
castle,  the  ballad  tells  us, — 

"  At  Gaillard  Richard  kept  his  state 

Released  from  captive  thrall ; 
And  girt  with  many  a  warrior  guest 
He  feasted  in  the  hall. 

"  His  minstrels  and  his  mailed  peers 

Were  seated  at  the  board, 
And  at  his  side  the  highest  sat 
William  of  the  Long  Sword. 

"  This  youthful  knight,  of  princely  birth, 

Was  dazzling  to  behold, 
For  his  chain  mail  from  head  to  foot 
All  glistened  o'er  with  gold. 

"  His  surcoat  dyed  with  azure  blue 

In  graceful  foldings  hung, 
And  there  the  golden  lions  ramped, 
With  bloody  claws  and  tongue. 

"  With  crimson  belt  around  his  waist 

His  sword  was  girded  on  ; 
The  hilt,  a  cross  to  kiss  in  death, 
Radiant  with  jewels  shone. 

"  The  names  and  banners  of  each  knight 
It  were  too  long  to  tell  ; 


The  Siege  of  Chateau  Gaillard     289 

Here  sat  the  brave  Montgomery, 
There  Bertrand  and  Rozell. 

"  So  all  within  was  merriment, 

When  suddenly,  a  shout 
As  of  some  unexpected  guest 
Burst  from  the  crowd  without. 

"  Now  not  a  sound,  and  scarce  a  breath, 

Through  the  long  hall  is  heard, 
When,  with  a  young  maid  by  his  side, 
A  visored  knight  appeared. 

"  Up  the  long  hall  they  held  their  way 

On  to  the  royal  seat ; 
Then  both  together,  hand  in  hand, 
Knelt  at  King  Richard's  feet. 

" '  Talbot,  a  Talbot ! '  rang  the  hall, 

With  gratulation  wild, 
'  Long  live  brave  Talbot,  and  long  live 
Earl  William's  new-found  child  ! ' 

"  Amid  a  scene  so  new  and  strange 

This  poor  maid  could  not  speak  ; 
King  Richard  took  her  by  the  hand 
And  gently  kissed  her  cheek  ; 

"  Then  placed  her,  smiling  through  a  tear, 

By  his  brave  brother's  side  : 
'  Long  live  brave  Longspe"  ! '  rang  the  hall, 
'  Long  live  his  future  bride  ! ' 

"  To  noble  Richard  this  fair  child, 

His  ward,  was  thus  restored  ; 

Destined  to  be  the  future  bride 

Of  him  of  the  Long  Sword." 


290  Feudal  Chateaux 

"  After  all,"  commented  my  husband,  as  he 
drew  several  small  paper-covered  volumes  of 
ballads  from  his  overcoat  pockets,  "  the  poets 
are  the  only  guides  we  want  to  these  old 
castles.  What  do  we  care  for  the  stupid 
researches  of  the  antiquarians  ?  What  we 
need  to  make  the  castle  live  is  the  story  of  an 
eye-witness  who  endured  the  siege  and  saw  the 
French  forces  hemming  in  the  garrison  like  a 
pack  of  hungry  wolves.  That  is  the  only  point 
of  view  I  care  for." 

"  Then  I  can  be  of  no  service  to  Monsieur," 
said  a  melancholy  voice  at  my  elbow,  "  for  I 
was  with  the  French." 

We  started,  and  turning  saw  a  slight,  dark 
man  of  indefinable  age,  for  his  face  was  beard- 
less, and  though  his  brow  was  wrinkled  it  had 
rather  the  effect  of  the  scowl  which  comes  from 
intense  thought  than  the  lines  which  mark  the 
passage  of  time.  His  hair,  which  was  cut 
squarely  across  his  forehead  and  even  with  his 
shoulders,  was  dark  and  waving.  His  eyes 
were  preternaturally  bright  and  his  nervous 
fingers  were  thin  and  claw-like.  I  fancied  from 
his  costume  that  he  was  an  acrobat  who  had 
strolled  up  the  cliff  from  some  wandering 
circus,  for  he  wore  trunk  hose  and  a  jerkin  of 
soft  leather  laced  down  the  front.  On  his 


The  Siege  of  Chateau  Gaillard     291 

wrist  he  carried  a  fine  falcon,  belled  and 
hooded. 

"  That  was  a  stirring  ballad,"  he  continued, 
for  we  were  both  too  much  surprised  to  speak, 
"  and  a  good  description  of  William  Long- 
sword.  He  was  ever  a  trifle  too  glorious  in  his 
dress,  but  that  was  because  he  was  young.  I 
would  like  to  have  seen  Richard ;  my  mas- 
ter adored  him,  though  he  was  English.  We 
would  not  have  joined  King  Philip  and  have 
assisted  at  the  siege  of  this  castle  if  Richard 
had  lived,  but  we  thought  King  John  was  in 
the  castle  and  we  had  more  reason  to  hate  him 
than  most." 

"  Who  was  your  master?"  I  asked  wonder- 
ingly. 

"  Hugh  de  Lusignan,"  replied  this  singular 
man.  "  He  was  Richard's  comrade  as  a  Cru- 
sader in  Palestine.  You  must  have  heard  of 
him,  even  if  you  are  not  French." 

My  husband  pulled  himself  together  with  an 
effort.  "  Did  you  happen  to  go  to  the  Crusades 
with  Lusignan  and  Cceur  de  Lion  ?  "  he  asked, 
sarcastically. 

"  No,  Monsieur,  I  was  too  young ;  I  was  only 
a  page  at  Le  Croizant,  the  castle  of  the  Lusign- 
ans  among  the  wild  mountains  in  Creuse.  It 
is  in  ruins  now,  and  it  was  a  lonely  place  then, 


292  Feudal  Chateaux 

with  my  lord's  old  aunt  as  chatelaine  ;  and  the 
pretty  little  Isabelle  of  Angouleme,  my  lord's 
betrothed,  who  was  being  bred  up  in  the  castle, 
had  but  a  tiresome  life  when  my  lord  was  away 
upon  the  King's  business.  I  had  charge  of  the 
dove-cote.  The  Lusignan  pigeons  were  the 
best  carriers  in  France,  and  my  lord  never  went 
from  home  without  a  willow  basket  of  them, 
and  every  now  and  then  he  would  send  one 
homing  with  a  tender  missive  beneath  its  wing 
for  the  Countess  Isabelle.  She  came  to  the 
dove-cote  every  morning,  and  would  cry, '  Mount 
the  ladder,  Papiol,  and  search  the  nests,  and  see 
if  there  is  no  tired  messenger  with  a  letter  for 
me.'  She  was  only  fifteen,  but  a  queen  in  her 
bearing  even  then,  and  when  my  lord  went  on 
the  Crusade  she  bade  him  bring  her  a  present 
more  costly  than  that  brought  back  to  any 
other  lady  by  her  lover. 

"  My  lord  took  a  standard  in  one  of  the 
charges  from  five  Moslems.  One  of  them 
stripped  the  banner  from  the  pole  and  fled 
with  it,  but  Lusignan  killed  the  other  four  and 
brought  away  the  staff,  with  the  gilded  cres- 
cent on  the  top.  He  gave  that  to  his  love  and 
she  was  well  pleased,  for  it  had  cost  him  many 
wounds.  She  had  it  nailed  over  the  entrance 
to  the  castle  and  named  the  castle  Le  Croizant 


The  Siege  of  Chateau  Gaillard     293 

(the  crescent).  It  was  a  pagan  thing,  and  it 
may  be  it  was  responsible  for  the  ill  luck  that 
came  to  him.  He  never  prized  a  thing  which 
was  not  coveted  and  taken  from  him.  Even 
the  treasure  which  King  Richard  took  from 
the  Lord  of  Chalus  should  have  been  Lusign- 
an's  by  good  rights,  for  it  had  been  buried  in 
that  underground  cave  by  his  ancestress,  the 
fairy  Melusine." 

"  What  became  of  the  treasure  after  Rich- 
ard's death  ?  "  I  asked  eagerly. 

"  Richard  gave  it  to  his  brother  of  the  Long 
Sword,  who  brought  it  here  to  Chateau  Gaillard, 
the  strongest  fortress  in  France.  King  Philip 
besieged  it,  as  you  know,  but  he  would  have 
had  still  greater  difficulty  in  taking  it  if  my 
master  had  not  helped  him,  and  my  master 
would  not  have  gone  on  that  campaign  but  for 
his  betrothed." 

"  We  all  know  that  episode  in  history,"  said 
my  husband:  "that  John  hurried  to  Chinon 
after  Richard's  death,  and  was  there  acknow- 
ledged King ;  that  while  there  he  sent  for  fair 
Isabelle  of  Angouleme  (whom  he  had  met  at 
his  mother's  Court  of  Love),  and  married  her  at 
Bordeaux,  'to  the  scandal  of  knighthood,' 
August  24th,  of  the  year  1 200.  We  have  read, 
too,  how  Hugh  de  Lusignan  sent  the  King  a 


294  Feudal  Chateaux 

challenge  to  mortal  combat,  which  John  treated 
with  contempt ;  how  Lusignan  joined  young 
Arthur  of  Brittany  in  his  revolt  against  his 
uncle ;  and,  when  both  were  taken  prisoners, 
how  John  made  a  progress  of  his  domains,  drag- 
ging his  wife's  lover  after  him  in  a  narrow  cage 
placed  on  a  rough  tumbril  drawn  by  oxen,  '  a 
mode  of  travelling,'  says  the  chronicler,  '  to 
which  the  noble  Lusignan  was  not  accustomed.' 
I  presume  you  would  have  us  believe  that  you 
accompanied  that  gala  procession  ?  " 

"  Alas,  no.  If  I  had  been  there  and  had 
seen  that  indignity  to  my  dear  lord  I  would 
have  sent  an  arrow  through  the  King's  heart. 
There  was  not  a  man  on  the  Lusignan  estates 
that  did  not  burn  to  take  arms  against  the 
English  after  that.  And  when  our  master 
escaped  from  the  dungeon  in  which  King  John 
had  ordered  that  he  should  be  starved  to 
death,  and  King  Philip  declared  war  upon 
England  to  avenge  the  murder  of  Prince 
Arthur,  the  men  of  La  Marche  were  the  first 
to  take  the  field  under  the  Lusignan  banner 
with  the  gold  crescent  on  the  top  of  the  staff. 

"  Only  Chateau  Gaillard  here,  manned  by 
the  knights  Richard  had  left  in  it,  with  some 
Norman  men-at-arms,  opposed  the  progress  of 
the  French,  and  hither  Philip  led  us  and  sat 


The  Siege  of  Chateau  Gaillard     295 

him  down  for  a  long  siege  on  an  autumn  day 
in  1 203, — a  year  I  have  good  cause  to  remem- 
ber. If  Monsieur  and  Madame  would  like  an 
account  of  the  siege  from  an  eye-witness  I 
will  describe  it  exactly  as  I  saw  it,  I  and  this 
falcon,  for  we  are  the  only  survivors." 

"  Chatter  on,  if  it  amuses  you,"  said  my 
husband,  "  provided  you  will  let  me  engage 
you  as  a  model,  and  pose,  while  you  are  talking, 
for  a  picture,  which  I  will  call  '  The  Falconer's 
Story,'  for  you  make  up  extremely  well." 

"  Pardon,  Monsieur,  I  make  up  nothing.  If 
my  account  is  not  to  be  credited " 

"  I  referred  to  your  physical  accoutrement," 
the  artist  replied,  apologetically.  "  Far  be  it 
from  me  to  doubt  that  you  are  a  trifle  over 
seven  hundred  years  old,  though  really  you 
don't  look  it." 

"  You  have  only  to  look  about  you,"  said 
Papiol,  settling  himself  to  his  story,  "  to  un- 
derstand exactly  how  it  all  happened.  This 
spur  of  cliff  juts  out  like  a  peninsula  from  the 
main  highland,  and  as  it  was  impossible  for  an 
assault  to  be  made  up  the  precipitous  sides 
of  the  cliff,  with  the  river  bathing  it  below, 
it  was  only  at  the  point  where  the  peninsula 
joins  the  table-land  that  an  attack  was  to  be 
expected.  At  this  point  Richard  built  the 


296  Feudal  Chateaux 

bastion,  or  advance  fort.  It  was  triangular  in 
shape,  with  a  strong  tower  at  the  point  which 
would  be  our  first  point  of  attack,  and  a  very 
deep  moat  had  been  dug  all  around  it.  Be- 
hind this  forework  was  the  real  fortress,  with  a 
great '  bailey,'  or  courtyard,  surrounded  by  high 
walls  with  strong  towers  at  every  angle.  In 
the  bailey  were  many  buildings  which  made 
life  more  convenient-like, — stables  and  work- 
shops, barracks  for  the  men,  and  a  chapel, — 
but  still  nothing  that  was  absolutely  essen- 
tial. The  castle  with  its  inner  court  was  at 
the  extreme  point  of  the  cliff,  a  fortress  within 
the  fortress.  So  you  see  we  had  a  good  stiff 
piece  of  work  cut  out  for  us. 

"  Down  on  the  river,  too,  the  village  of  Little 
Andelys  was  fortified,  as  was  that  island  oppos- 
ite, while  the  Seine  was  blocked  by  a  stock- 
ade which  effectually  prevented  the  passage 
of  our  boats  until  we  pulled  up  all  those  prickly 
river-plants. 

"  Philip  expected  hard  work,  and  he  had 
it ;  but  he  realised  the  tremendous  issues 
which  hung  upon  the  result.  Aquitaine,  which 
had  ever  been  loyal  to  Queen  Eleanor  and 
to  Richard,  had  no  interest  in  English  John, 
and  not  Normandy  alone  but  all  the  English 
possessions  in  France  formed  the  prize  which 


The  Siege  of  Chateau  Gaillard     297 

awaited  him  if  he  took  Chateau  Gaillard.  He 
counted,  too,  on  the  consternation  which  had 
fallen  on  Richard's  knights  with  the  death  of 
their  leader.  Do  you  remember  how  his 
friend  and  fellow-troubadour,  Gaucelm  Faidit, 
voiced  the  general  grief  and  discouragement 
when  he  sang  : 

4  Valour  and  fame  are  fled  since  dead  thou  art, 
England's  King,  Richard  of  the  Lion  Heart. 

*  O  noble  King  !  O  knight  renowned  ! 

Where  now  is  battle's  pride 
Since  in  the  lists  no  longer  found 

With  conquest  at  thy  side  ? 
The  Holy  Tomb  shall  linger  long 

Within  the  Moslem's  power 
Since  God  hath  willed  the  brave  and  strong 

Should  wither  in  an  hour. 

*  Valour  and  fame  are  fled  since  dead  thou  art, 
England's  King,  Richard  of  the  Lion  Heart.' 

"  Still  this  lament  was  not  quite  true,  for 
Richard's  companions  in  arms,  many  of  them 
knights  of  prowess,  were  within  the  fortress. 
The  doughty  Constable  of  Chester  commanded ; 
William  Longsword,  after  Richard  the  bravest 
of  his  time,  was  thought  to  be  inside  the  walls ; 
and  if  King  John  had  given  the  garrison  the 
enthusiasm  which  would  have  resulted  from 
defending  the  royal  person  they  would  have 


298  Feudal  Chateaux 

had  an  added  incentive  for  fighting  to  the 
death. 

"  We  arrived  before  the  castle  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  siege  and  before  the  place  was 
completely  invested.  At  this  time  Philip  was 
in  ignorance  of  the  fact  that  the  Constable  of 
Chester,  Roger  de  Lacey,  held  command  of 
the  garrison  and  hoped  that  he  should  be  able 
to  trap  King  John  himself,  with  his  gay  court. 
When  my  lord  heard  of  the  possibility  that  both 
his  hated  rival  and  the  still  loved  Isabelle  were 
within  these  walls  his  heart  was  fired  by  a  pas- 
sionate desire  for  revenge  and  for  the  recovery 
of  his  betrothed.  He  believed  that  she  had 
been  forced  into  an  odious  marriage  by  her 
parents.  He  had  noted  many  a  look  of  pity 
when  he  was  paraded  before  her  in  his  degrad- 
ation, and  he  believed  that  he  owed  his  life 
and  liberty  to  her  intercession. 

"  My  master  gladly  obeyed  Philip's  command 
to  reconnoitre  the  castle  and  learn  all  that  was 
possible  before  it  was  completely  shut  off  from 
all  communication  with  the  outside  world.  He 
at  first  proposed  to  venture  in  as  a  spy,  but  this 
was  forbidden  by  his  monarch.  He  had  been  too 
long  a  marked  man  and  his  face  was  too  well 
known  by  the  English  for  him  to  escape  detec- 
tion. His  strong  desire  to  ascertain  whether 


The  Siege  of  Chateau  Gaillard     299 

the  Queen  was  indeed  within  the  castle  quick- 
ened his  invention.  Thinking  that  he  might 
wish  to  send  some  message  to  Le  Croizant  he 
had  brought  with  him  an  osier  basket  of  our 
carrier-pigeons.  In  his  survey  of  Gaillard  he 
noticed  that  carts  containing  supplies  were  still 
received  at  the  postern-gate  to  the  inner  fort- 
ress, for  the  path  leading  up  the  cliffs  from  the 
Seine  was  not  yet  in  our  hands.  He  therefore 
disguised  me  as  a  Norman  peasant,  and  provid- 
ing me  with  a  donkey  laden  with  poultry,  sent 
me  by  a  roundabout  way  to  this  gate. 

"  '  I  cannot  let  you  in,'  said  the  warder,  '  for 
the  governor's  orders  just  sent  me  are,  "Admit 
neither  man  nor  beast  under  forfeiture  of  your 
life." ' 

" '  This  is  neither  man  nor  beast,'  I  replied, 
holding  up  a  fat  goose.  The  warder  eyed  it 
enviously. 

" '  Doubtless,'  he  said,  *  you  think  to  take 
advantage  of  our  straitened  condition  to  drive 
a  hard  bargain  for  your  wares,  but  you  have 
come  to  a  poor  market.' 

"  '  Harkee,  man,'  I  replied,  falling  back  to  a 
certain  extent  upon  the  truth,  which  promised 
in  this  instance  to  serve  me  better  than  any 
fiction  ;  '  I  am  no  poulterer.  My  master,  a 
wealthy  farmer  hereabouts,  pities  the  condition 


300  Feudal  Chateaux 

of  the  ladies  shut  up  in  this  fortress  and  has 
sent  these  birds  for  their  use.  If  thou  wilt  get 
this  cage  of  pigeons  alive  to  the  Queen  and 
tell  her  that  she  knows  them  well  and  him  who 
sends  them,  then  for  thy  trouble  thou  mayst 
keep  these  geese  of  La  Marche.' 

" '  Now,  marry,  thou  art  a  fool  to  trust  me,' 
replied  the  warder.  '  What  guaranty  hast  thou 
that  I  keep  not  both  pigeons  and  geese  ? ' 

" '  The  guaranty  of  an  honest  face,'  I  made 
answer.  '  Throw  down  a  rope  that  I  may  tie 
it  to  these  panniers  and  ease  my  donkey  of  his 
burden.' 

"  Having  hoisted  my  birds  I  bestrode  my 
donkey  and  followed  a  circuitous  path  down  the 
hill  to  the  village  of  Little  Andelys,  which  was 
now  only  a  mass  of  charred  ruins,  for  our  men 
had  burned  it  and  held  the  bridge  which  com- 
municated with  the  other  side  of  the  Seine. 
Here,  giving  the  countersign,  I  was  allowed  to 
enter  our  lines  and  report  to  my  master  the 
manner  in  which  I  had  performed  my  er- 
rand. 

"  I  was  not  allowed  to  do  so,  however,  without 
a  serious  adventure.  On  the  way  I  fell  in  with 
some  of  the  inhabitants  of  Little  Andelys 
who  had  fled  to  the  castle  for  refuge  but  had 
been  refused  admittance.  Roger  de  Lacey, 


The  Siege  of  Chateau  Gaillard 

foreseeing  the  prospect  of  a  long  siege,  in  which 
starvation  would  be  the  enemy's  chief  general, 
had  judged  best  not  to  burden  the  castle 
with  these  bouches  inutiles.  It  was  a  stern 
measure,  but  a  necessity  of  war.  Attempting 
to  return  to  their  homes  the  poor  villagers 
found  that  they  had  been  pillaged  and  burned 
by  the  French,  who  would  not  allow  them  to 
pass  through  or  enter  their  lines.  Twelve 
hundred  wretched  creatures,  men,  women,  and 
children,  sat  down  beneath  the  castle  walls  or 
wandered  starving  on  the  chalk  cliff,  which 
they  soon  cleared  of  the  small  animals  that 
burrowed  there.  Their  miserable  existence 
was  prolonged  for  a  time  by  the  dogs  which 
were  turned  from  the  castle  because  they,  too, 
were  useless  mouths.  A  fine  pack  of  hounds, 
with  which  Richard  himself  had  followed  the 
chase,  were  now  in  turn  hunted  by  starving 
men,  whom  the  terrible  pangs  of  hunger  ren- 
dered fleet  of  limb  and  strong  of  arm.  After 
the  dogs  were  all  devoured  there  remained 
nothing  but  the  Seine,  which  dragged  out  their 
lives  by  providing  them  with  water  and  occa- 
sionally with  a  small  fish. 

The  outcast  refugees  had  not  reached  the 
worst  stage  of  their  distress  when  I  met  them, 
but  they  foresaw  it  and  they  tore  me  from  my 


302  Feudal  Chateaux 

donkey,  which  they  instantly  killed,  and  for 
whose  carcass  they  fought.  Horrified  by  what 
I  had  seen  I  begged  my  master  to  intercede 
with  King  Philip  for  their  relief. 

" '  That  will  I,'  said  Lusignan,  '  for  I  have 
come  near  enough  to  starvation  myself  to  like 
it  not.  Philip  shall  give  these  poor  wretches 
license  to  pass  in  peace  through  our  lines 
whither  they  will.  Thou  hast  done  well.  My 
Isabelle  (I  cannot  even  now  call  her  the 
Queen)  will  recognise  the  pigeons  if  they  find 
their  way  to  her  turret  instead  of  to  the  cook's 
spit.  What  said  the  warder ;  is  she  certainly 
in  the  castle  ? ' 

"  '  Woman  gear  of  some  kind  is  there,  for  as  I 
stood  at  the  postern  I  looked  up  at  the  gov- 
ernor's dwelling,  which  is  next  to  the  donjon 
keep,  and  I  saw  a  narrow  window,  and  set 
therein  a  harp.' 

"'That  may  well  be,'  Lusignan  replied,  'for 
it  was  Bertran  de  Born's  custom  to  place  his 
harp  in  the  window  when  a  storm  was  coming, 
and  the  wild  notes  which  the  wind  struck  from 
it  inspired  him  to  songs  of  battle.  There  is  no 
certitude  from  that  discovery  that  Isabelle  or 
any  other  woman  is  in  the  castle.  If  she  is 
there  and  has  received  the  pigeons  she  will  let 
fly  one  at  once,  but  it  will  be  long  before  my 


The  Siege  of  Chateau  Gaillard    303 

pages  that  watch  the  dove-cote  at  home  can 
bring  me  the  message  which  it  bears.' 

" '  Methinks  an  arrow  might  bring  the  mes- 
senger down/  I  suggested. 

"  '  Nay,'  said  my  master,  '  they  fly  too  high. 
We  have  not  a  bowman  among  the  King's 
archers  could  hit  such  a  mark.' 

"  I  thought  a  moment,  and  then  threw  my  cap 
into  the  air.  '  Nevertheless,  what  an  arrow  can- 
not do  a  hawk  may.' 

'"A  merry  thought,  but  where  shall  we  find 
a  falcon?  The  knights  of  France  go  not  to 
battle  with  hawk  on  fist.  Ah,  Papiol,  thy  de- 
vices are  like  a  good  chain  with  but  one  rotten 
link.' 

" '  That  link  shall  be  new  welded,'  I  promised. 
4  Get  but  that  rabble  of  starvelings  from  under 
the  castle  walls,  and  ask  the  King  to  give  thee 
that  tower  which  was  built  by  the  river  to  de- 
fend the  stockade.  It  is  suited  to  more  man- 
oeuvres than  King  Richard  had  in  mind  when 
he  built  it.  From  its  platform  one  hath  a 
straight  view  into  that  same  window  of  the 
harp,  at  no  great  distance  neither  as  the  crow, 
or  rather  as  the  pigeon,  flies.  Place  me  as  sent- 
inel on  that  tower,  and  I  will  find  me  a  falcon 
and  go  a-hawking,  and  catch  my  pigeon  before 
it  has  shot  to  any  great  height,  for,  trust  me, 


304  Feudal  Chateaux 

the  harp  I  saw  belongs  not  to  Bertran  de 
Born.  There  was  a  scarf  of  rose-coloured  sar- 
cenet tied  to  it,  which  fluttered  in  the  breeze, 
and  that  were  too  womanish  a  gawd  even  for  a 
minstrel.' 

"  My  master  lamented  that  he  had  not  Rich- 
ard's famous  falcon  with  which  he  had  hawked 
at  Jaffa  on  the  Plain  of  Sharon,  but  I  bade  him 
not  grieve  for  that  or  any  other,  for  I  had  my 
own  plan.  Cold  weather  was  coming,  it  was 
the  time  of  the  migration  of  birds,  and  I  had 
noted  each  day  that  passage  hawks  flew  over 
to  the  south.  I  trusted  to  snare  a  haggard 
that  would  answer  our  business  as  well  as  z.fau- 
con  gentiL  I  could  make  the  leurre,  the  jesses, 
and  the  chaperon  a  cornette  or  hood,  and  I  had 
learned  the  dressage  or  training  of  hawks  from 
a  famous  falconer. 

"The  first  time  that  my  master  visited  me 
after  giving  me  the  River  Tower  yonder  I 
showed  him  with  pride  three  falcons,  hooded, 
jessed,  and  belled,  and  fastened  to  a  block  of 
wood  by  the  thongs  attached  above  the  talons. 

"  '  That  great  one,'  I  explained,  '  is  a  Pere- 
grine and  noble.  She  has  escaped  from  some 
hunter  and  gone  wild,  for  she  has  a  silver 
varvel  [ring]  on  her  right  arm  [wing].  She 
flew  to  the  leurre,  too,  and  even  allowed  me  to 


The  Siege  of  Chateau  Gaillard     305 

fasten  on  the  hood  without  resistance.  This 
is  a  common  goshawk,  and  ignoble,  for  it  pur- 
sues its  prey  in  direct  line,  while  all  noble  fal- 
cons soar  and  strike  the  quarry  from  above. 
This  is  a  Merlin,  an  eyess  [nestling],  which 
Ludovic  found  for  me  in  a  nest  on  the  cliff.  It 
will  take  longer  to  dress  than  the  others,  for  its 
mother  had  been  killed  by  those  starvelings 
and  the  poor  little  screamer  has  hunger  traces 
on  its  feathers.  It  is  not  strong  enough  to 
enter  at  a  pigeon,  but  I  am  training  it  with 
sparrows,  which  I  fasten  to  one  line  while  I  hold 
my  eyess  by  another.  It  flew  bravely  this 
morning  when  I  called  it  off,  but  it  had  not 
the  strength  to  retrieve  its  quarry ;  I  fear  it 
will  be  of  no  service — but  the  others  will  serve 
our  turn.' 

" '  Let  me  see  the  varvel,'  said  Lusignan, 
holding  out  his  wrist,  upon  which  the  Peregrine 
hopped  confidently  and  allowed  him  to  ex- 
amine the  flat  silver  ring  on  her  ankle. 

"  My  lord  started.  '  There  is  a  crown  en- 
graved on  the  varvel,'  he  exclaimed.  '  If  this 
is  one  of  John's  hawks  I  will  not  use  it.' 

"  She  is  the  best  of  the  three,'  I  grumbled, 
'  and  no  Irish  hawk.  John's  come  from  Carrick- 
fergus.' 

"  '  Nay,  Papiol,  but  for  once  thy  lore  is  wrong, 


306  Feudal  Chateaux 

for  this  is  no  Peregrine.  Dost  see  the  name, 
"Melek  Rik"?  She  is  an  Indian  Shahin, 
and  the  very  bird  that  Richard  hunted  with  at 
Jaffa.  She  was  given  to  him  by  Saladin,  and 
Richard  gave  her  in  turn  to  Bertran  de  Born, 
who  must  have  lost  her  in  this  vicinity.  Do 
not  enter  her  unless  thou  art  sure  she  will  re. 
turn,  for  I  would  not  lose  her  for  a  chest  of 
treasure.' 

"  Lusignan  was  so  much  occupied  in  carrying 
out  the  commands  of  the  King,  as  well  as  in 
establishing  Ludovic,  the  best  archer  among  his 
crossbowmen,  with  me  at  the  River  Tower, 
that  it  was  not  until  the  wretched  condition  of 
the  outcasts  was  brought  to  his  personal  no- 
tice, as  they  swarmed  about  his  tower,  that  he 
bethought  him  to  petition  the  King  for  them. 
Even  then  it  was  in  his  own  interest  that  he 
did  so.  A  heron  had  flown  over  the  tower, 
and  I  loosed  the  goshawk,  which  raked  off 
[flew  in  a  straight  line],  fastening  its  claws  on 
the  heron's  neck.  The  quarry  was  heavy,  and 
bore  down  its  captor  in  its  fall,  when  some 
famished  boys,  who  had  watched  the  pursuit, 
dashed  down  from  the  cliffs,  and  seizing  both 
birds  devoured  them  ravenously,  hardly  wait- 
ing to  strip  off  the  feathers.  Ludovic  shouted 
to  them  to  leave  the  hawk  or  the  archers  would 


The  Siege  of  Chateau  Gaillard     307 

fire  upon  them;  but  hunger  had  banished  all 
fear,  and  they  would  rather  have  died  with 
the  hawk's  flesh  in  their  teeth  than  have  lived 
to  starve. 

"  Lusignan  would  not  allow  Ludovic's  threat 
to  be  carried  out,  and  when  he  recounted  the 
incident  to  the  King  the  latter  cried  :  '  In  God's 
name  let  these  poor  people  go  where  they  will. 
I  count  them  as  mine  own  subjects  since  they 
are  rejected  by  our  enemies.'  This  clemency 
came  too  late  for  hundreds  who  had  already 
died  of  starvation  or  gone  mad  upon  the 
cliffs. 

"  Philip  had  possession  now  of  all  the  region 
below  the  castle,  but  the  fortress  could  only  be 
taken  by  attacking  it  from  the  higher  land. 
The  main  army  established  itself  on  this  ele- 
vated plateau  and  the  investiture  was  complete. 
But  to  fortify  his  camp  with  a  palisade,  to  build 
towers,  and  mount  the  huge  engines  necessary 
for  an  assault  required  time ;  autumn  grew  to 
winter,  and  if  the  grand  marshal  Starvation  was 
engaged  on  the  French  side  to  assist  in  the 
reduction  of  the  castle,  the  stern  general  Win- 
ter, with  all  his  legions  of  ice  and  snow  and 
bitter  wind,  attacked  our  unprotected  camps  in 
the  interest  of  the  besieged,  who  were  snugly 
housed. 


3o8  Feudal  Chateaux 

"  Now  the  siege  proper  began.  Richard,  fore- 
seeing that  the  assault  would  take  place  from 
this  quarter,  had  strongly  fortified  the  triangular 
bastion,  or  outwork,  which  lay  between  the  pla- 
teau and  the  fortress  itself.  This  advanced 
fort  was  completely  isolated  on  every  side  by 
a  deep  and  wide  moat.  Its  only  connection 
with  the  castle  was  by  a  bridge,  which,  when- 
ever it  became  necessary  to  abandon  the 
bastion,  could  be  drawn  up  by  a  windlass, 
manipulated  on  the  castle  side,  thus  closing 
the  doorway  and  leaving  the  bastion  detached. 
The  bastion  was  provided  with  towers  con- 
nected by  a  chemin  de  ronde  on  the  top  of  the 
courtines,  or  walls.  Both  the  walls  and  the 
towers  were  topped  with  battlements  forming 
breastworks  for  the  defenders.  On  the  central 
tower  was  mounted  a  mangonel,  or  engine  for 
throwing  to  a  distance  huge  stones,  a  great 
heap  of  which  had  been  piled  beside  it.  In 
the  two  side  towers  were  catapults  which  com- 
manded the  moat  at  the  foot  of  the  larger  tower, 
and  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  siege  rendered 
efforts  at  mining  unsuccessful.  Along  the 
ramparts  of  the  wall  skilful  crossbowmen  were 
stationed,  who  picked  off  the  commanding  offi- 
cers, and  the  men  who  worked  the  engines,  as 
well  as  the  pioneers  whose  business  it  was  to 


BIRD'S-EYE  VIEW  OF  QAILLARD. 


The  Siege  of  Chateau  Gaillard     309 

fill  in  the  moat  with  trunks  of  trees  and  earth,  and 
to  stampede  the  oxen  which  drew  the  carts  laden 
with  this  material  to  the  edge  of  the  ditch. 

"  The  battering-ram  could  not  bemade  to  play 
against  the  wall  of  the  tower  until  the  ditch  was 
filled  in,  but  so  deadly  a  fire  was  kept  up  by  the 
besieged  that  it  seemed  impossible  to  approach 
the  moat  and  many  men  were  killed  in  the 
attempt.  At  length  a  "cat,"  or  long  shed  on 
rollers,  whose  roof  of  strong  oaken  beams  was 
protected  with  green  hides,  was  trundled  for- 
ward, worked  by  men  inside,  until  it  reached 
the  edge  of  the  moat.  Carts  of  rubbish  were 
then  backed  through  this  tunnel  and  their  con- 
tents dumped  into  the  moat.  By  this  means 
the  part  directly  in  front  of  the  main  tower  was 
filled,  and  the  cat  advanced  so  that  it  touched 
the  wall.  Then  a  bosson,  or  battering-ram  on 
wheels,  was  rolled  down  an  inclined  track  under 
cover  of  the  cat,  and  by  the  combined  efforts 
of  twenty  strong  men  worked  backward  and 
forward  until  the  repeated  blows  of  its  iron 
beak  began  to  drill  a  hole  in  the  wall.  The 
besieged  were  perfectly  aware  of  what  was  go- 
ing on,  and  from  the  flanking  towers  barrels  of 
Greek  fire  were  thrown  by  the  catapults  on  the 
roof  of  the  cat.  The  raw  hides,  however,  pre- 
vented the  roof  from  catching  fire.  The  wall 


310  Feudal  Chateaux 

was  cracking :  it  was  evident  that  in  another 
hour  a  breach  would  be  effected. 

"  Roger  de  Lacy  had  provided  for  the  emerg- 
gency  and  had  filled  the  lower  story  of  the 
tower  with  several  cartloads  of  earth,  so  that 
when,  with  infinite  labour,  the  great  wall  was 
finally  bored  through,  the  pioneers  encountered 
a  solid  mass  of  earth,  and,  although  cracked, 
the  upper  walls  did  not  settle. 

"  Though  their  enthusiasm  was  somewhat 
lessened,  this  device  merely  retarded  their 
efforts.  The  bosson  was  withdrawn  and  the 
soldiers  worked  with  pickaxe  and  shovel  to 
clear  the  interior  of  the  tower  of  the  earth. 
This  was  the  work  of  an  entire  day,  and  while 
it  was  going  on  the  King  caused  two  trebu- 
chets *  to  be  set  up  out  of  range  of  the  cata- 
pults on  the  tower,  which  hurled  huge  trunks 
of  trees  and  great  stones  clear  over  the  walls 
into  the  courtyard  of  the  fort.  But  this  did 
no  mischief  whatever,  for  the  court  was  quite 
empty,  all  of  the  garrison  having  mounted  to 
the  towers  and  walls.  At  length  the  engineer 
of  one  of  the  trebuchets  got  the  range  of  the 
platform  of  the  main  tower,  and  discharged 

1  Machines  acting  by  means  of  a  great  weight  fastened  to  the 
short  arm  of  a  lever  which,  being  let  fall,  raised  the  long  arm  with 
great  velocity  and  hurled  stones  with  much  force. 


The  Siege  of  Chateau  Gaillard     311 

such  an  immense  fragment  of  stone  upon  it 
that  it  not  only  killed  the  worker  of  the  man- 
gonel, but  broke  the  engine  itself  into  a  thou- 
sand fragments.  As  the  trebuchet  continued 
with  the  same  deadly  aim  to  pile  stones  upon 
the  platform  the  tower  had  to  be  abandoned, 
though  the  two  catapults  continued  their  fire 
and  prevented  any  advance  of  archers  to  the 
edge  of  the  moat. 

"  At  length  the  pioneers  working  within  the 
lower  story  of  the  tower  cleared  it  of  earth, 
only  to  find  that  the  ladder-opening  through 
which  they  expected  to  mount  into  the  next 
story  had  been  covered  with  boards  and  by 
a  heap  of  stones.  Wood  and  tar  was  brought 
and  the  lower  room  was  nearly  filled  and  set  on 
fire,  the  besiegers  retiring  through  the  cat  to  a 
safe  vantage-ground  to  await  the  result.  As 
no  one  dared  enter  the  tower  from  the  roof 
on  account  of  our  trebuchets  it  soon  became 
a  blazing  caldron  ;  but  the  walls  fell  in,  so  far 
smothering  the  flames  as  to  make  it  possible 
for  the  defenders  of  the  walls  on  each  side  to 
keep  the  fire  from  spreading. 

"  A  breach  was  now  made,  but  while  our 
men  waited  for  the  burning  ruins  to  cool 
before  entering  over  them,  the  English 
constructed  a  barricade  behind  which  they 


312  Feudal  Chateaux 

mounted  trebuchets  and  mangonels,  while  the 
two  catapults  on  the  side  towers  were  also 
pointed  toward  the  breach.  The  first  on- 
slaught was  repulsed,  but  the  watchers  on  the 
towers  seeing  that  we  were  preparing  to  ad- 
vance in  greater  numbers  and  better  order,  and 
that  the  French  would  undoubtedly  gain  pos- 
session of  the  court,  and  then,  if  it  were  not  de- 
stroyed, of  the  bridge  to  the  second  fortress, 
the  order  was  given  to  retire  from  the  outpost 
into  the  bailey,  pulling  up  the  drawbridge 
after  the  last  man  had  crossed.  The  retreat 
was  accomplished  in  good  order,  the  besieged 
carrying  their  munitions  of  war  with  them. 
In  February  we  took  possession  of  the  bas- 
tion, only  to  find  that  the  English  had  filled 
in  the  well  and  had  left  the  place  stripped  of 
everything  which  could  be  of  any  service  to 
us. 

"  It  was  the  first  step  to  be  taken,  however, 
and  King  Philip  and  all  his  army  were  greatly 
cheered  to  think  that  we  were  driving  them  in. 
The  fortress  was  still  of  commodious  size,  as 
you  see,  and  had  been  put  into  the  best  possi- 
ble condition  for  a  siege,  for  Richard  had 
munitioned  it  admirably  (see  Note  A).  Blocks 
of  stone  were  quarried  out  of  the  cliff  and 
piled  up  in  the  bailey,  and  smaller  heaps  were 


GROUND  PLAN  OF  THE  CHATEAU  QAILLARD. 


A.  HIGH  ANGLE  TOWER. 

B.  B.      SMALLER  SIDE  TOWERS. 

C.  C.  D.  D.      CORNER  TOWERS. 

E.  OUTER  ENCEINTE  OR   LOWER  vOURT. 

F.  THE  WELL. 

43.  H.       BUILDINGS  IN  THE  LOWER  COURT. 
I.      THE  MOAT. 

L.       THE  COUNTERSCARP. 
M.       THE  KEEP. 


N.      THE  ENCAMPMENT. 
O.       POSTERN  TOWER. 
P.       POSTERN  GATE. 

S.      GATE  FOR  ENCAMPMENT. 

T.  T.       FLANKING  TOWERS. 

V.       RIVER  TOWER  OCCUPIED  BY  LU8IGNAN. 

X.      CONNECTING  WALL. 

Y.      THE  STOCKADE  IN  THE  RIVER. 

Z.   Z.       THE  GREAT  DITCHES. 


The  Siege  of  Chateau  Gaillard     3J3 

placed  beside  every  mangonel  and  catapult  on 
the  roofs  of  the  towers. 

"  There  was  a  good  stock  of  fuel  stored  in 
the  caverns  which  were  formed  by  quarrying 
the  stone,  sufficient  to  serve  the  castle  all 
winter,  and  an  abundance  of  water  was  pro- 
vided by  the  three  wells,  which  were  supposed 
to  be  one  thousand  feet  deep,  though,  as  the 
castle  was  only  three  hundred  feet  above  the 
level  of  the  river,  this  estimate  is  probably 
exaggerated. 

"  Ludovic,  the  archer  who  was  associated 
with  me  at  the  River  Tower,  had  a  friend 
named  Bogis,  a  fearless  man  of  an  inquiring 
mind.  He  was  very  much  interested  in  the 
quarries  under  the  castle.  A  deserter  told 
him  that  the  only  entrance  to  them  was  from  the 
castle  bailey ;  but  Bogis  was  not  so  sure,  and 
was  constantly  prowling  about  the  outside  of 
the  cliff  in  the  hope  of  finding  a  concealed  door. 
At  one  point  he  said  he  could  hear  the  pick- 
axes of  the  men  within,  and  he  marked  this 
place  as  a  good  spot  for  mining.  Unfortun- 
ately it  was  in  an  exposed  position  and  under 
the  range  of  one  of  the  towers,  and  the  com- 
mander of  the  miners  would  not  attempt  oper- 
ations there.  So  Bogis  continued  to  prowl. 

"  The  besieged  were  in  good  spirits  at  this 


Feudal  Chateaux 


time,  the  deserter  told  us.  They  were  only 
1  80  men,  but  they  could  all  be  depended  upon, 
and  as  only  sixty  were  kept  on  guard  except 
when  we  attacked  they  had  two-thirds  of  the 
time  to  rest.  Provisions  were  plenty  and  there 
were  frequent  banquets,  at  which  Bertran  de 
Born's  battle-songs  were  sung  so  lustily  that 
the  armour  rattled  on  the  walls  of  the  great 
hall. 

"  Do  you  know  those  chansons  de  guerre  of 
Richard's  friend  ?  Here  is  one,"  —  and  Papiol 
sang  with  spirit  : 

'  '  I  love  to  see  all  scattered  around, 
Pavilions,  tents,  on  the  martial  ground, 

And  my  spirit  finds  it  good 
To  see  on  the  level  plains  beyond 
Gay  knights  and  steeds  caparisoned. 
It  pleases  me  when  the  lancers  bold 

Set  men  and  armies  flying  ; 
And  it  pleases  me,  too,  to  hear  around 
The  voice  of  the  soldiers  crying  ; 

And  joy  is  mine 

When  the  castles  strong,  besieged,  shake, 
And  walls,  uprooted,  totter  and  crack  ; 

And  I  see  the  foemen  join 
On  the  moated  shore  all  compassed  round 
With  the  palisade  and  the  guarded  mound. 

*  I  tell  you  that  nothing  my  soul  can  cheer, 
Or  banqueting,  or  reposing, 


The  Siege  of  Chateau  Gaillard     315 

Like  the  onset  cry  of  "  Charge  them  !  "  rung 
From  each  side,  as  in  battle  closing, 

Where  the  horses  neigh, 
And  the  call  to  "  Aid  !  "  is  echoing  loud  ; 
And  there  on  the  earth  the  lowly  and  proud 

In  the  fosse  together  lie  ; 
And  yonder  is  piled  the  mangled  heap 
Of  the  brave  that  scaled  the  trenches  steep.'  " 

"  That  was  better  stuff  to  give  men  stomach 
for  fighting  than  the  wailing  of  Gaucelm 
Faidit. 

"  Until  actively  employed  in  combating,  the 
men  were  kept  at  work  making  arrows  and  prac- 
tising manoeuvres  and  running  along  the  chemin 
de  ronde  to  the  succour  of  different  towers,  ac- 
cording as  De  Lacey's  signal  horn  rang  out 
from  his  station  in  the  highest  outlook.  In  one 
of  the  towers  opening  from  the  bailey,  Richard 
had  established  a  singular  man  whom  he  called 
a  Spanish  physician,  and  who  had  been-  sent  to 
him  by  his  friend  Sancho  of  Navarre.  He 
had  been  in  Toledo  and  had  learned  some- 
thing of  the  arts  of  the  Moor,  and  it  was  even 
whispered  among  the  soldiers  that  he  was  a 
Moorish  alchemist,  for  he  had  fitted  up  the 
lower  story  of  his  tower  as  a  laboratory,  and 
strange  fires  were  seen  to  glow  within  it, 
whose  smoke  emitted  most  unchristian  odours. 
He  worked  harder  than  ever  now,  and  De 


316  Feudal  Chateaux 

Lacey  was  delighted  when  he  was  informed 
that  he  was  busy  constructing  Greek  fire, 
which  he  had  seen  used  in  Palestine. 

"  The  deserter  assured  us  that  the  King  and 
Queen  were  not  within  the  castle,  but  my 
master  would  not  wholly  credit  his  word.  It 
was  an  old  trick,  he  said,  for  a  beleaguered 
garrison  to  send  out  a  pretended  deserter  to 
report  things  differently  from  what  they  were. 
There  were  two  women — this  I  had  dis- 
covered— in  the  Governor's  house  adjoining 
the  donjon  keep ;  but  these,  the  man  said, 
were  the  wife  of  De  Lacey  and  the  Countess 
of  Salisbury,  the  affianced  of  William  Long- 
sword,  who  had  been  sent  to  England  on  some 
errand  before  the  siege,  and  had  been  de- 
tained there  by  King  John's  orders. 

"So  the  siege  went  on.  It  had  lasted  eight 
months  when  Bogis  entered  our  tower  nearly 
wild  with  excitement.  It  happened  that  my 
master  was  with  us,  warming  himself  at  the  fire 
of  driftwood  which  had  been  washed  ashore 
from  the  broken  stockade  and  which  we  had 
utilised  to  make  a  cheerful  blaze,  but  he  was 
not  in  a  merry  humour,  for  not  a  pigeon  had 
been  sent  from  the  castle  and  he  feared  that 
they  had  been  broiled  and  eaten.  But  when 
Bogis  plunged  in,  stuttering  and  sputtering, 


The  Siege  of  Chateau  Gaillard     317 

for  his  mouth  was  full  of  too  big  a  matter  for 
him  to  spit  it  forth  at  once,  and  we  under- 
stood at  last  that  he  had  discovered  a  small 
window  opening  into  the  moat  from  the  under- 
ground caverns,  my  master's  face  lightened. 
The  fosse  was  dry,  and  Bogis  desired  only  to 
be  let  down  into  it  with  a  few  other  compan- 
ions, when,  climbing  on  each  other's  shoulders, 
they  would  enter  that  window  and  spy  out  the 
land.  My  lord  bettered  that  notion  with  the 
counsel  that  once  within  they  should  get  them 
as  soon  as  possible  to  the  bailey  drawbridge, 
which  they  should  let  fall,  so  that  he  and  his 
troop,  who  would  be  waiting  in  the  bastion, 
could  rush  in  and  surprise  the  garrison.  Lu- 
dovic  volunteered  at  once  to  go  with  Bogis, 
and  he  chose  him  three  other  daring  fellows 
for  the  business, — Eustaches,  Manasses,  and 
Ori.  I  longed  to  go  also,  but  my  master  said 
gruffly  that  I  had  not  prospered  so  well  with 
my  chicken  hawks  as  to  be  trusted  with  so 
weighty  a  matter. 

"  These  others,  at  the  peril  of  their  lives,  en- 
tered upon  the  adventure,  and  discovered  when 
they  had  entered  the  window  that  they  were 
not  in  the  cellar  stables,  but  in  a  little  crypt 
set  round  with  tombs.  Mounting  by  a  nar- 
row stair  they  found  themselves  within  the 


318  Feudal  Chateaux 

chapel,  where  a  fair  lady  was  saying  her 
prayers.  She  fled  with  a  shriek  at  the  ap- 
pearance of  Bogis,  who  came  up  sword  in 
hand.  He  followed  her  to  the  door,  where  he 
waited  for  the  arrival  of  his  companions  before 
venturing  out  into  the  bailey,  in  which  were  a 
number  of  soldiers.  At  the  lady's  outcry 
some  of  these  backed  a  cart  of  tar  barrels, 
which  they  set  on  fire,  against  the  chapel  door. 
Bogis  and  his  men  seeing  themselves  so  im- 
prisoned, made  such  a  racket  hewing  at  the 
door  with  their  battle-axes  that  the  soldiers 
in  the  bailey  believed  that  a  large  body  of 
soldiers  were  swarming  up  from  the  crypt, 
and  fled  for  their  lives  into  the  castle's  inner 
court. 

"  The  bailey  was  left  empty,  but  Lusignan 
and  his  men  waiting  in  front  of  the  entrance 
which  connected  it  with  the  bastion  could  not 
immediately  enter,  for  Bogis  and  his  compan- 
ions, shut  up  within  the  chapel,  could  not  rush 
through  the  flames  of  the  tar  barrels,  which  had 
aided  them  in  demolishing  the  door,  but  now 
stifled  them  with  their  smoke.  Abandoning 
the  door,  which  they  had  lost  time  in  hewing, 
they  broke  the  windows  with  their  battle-axes, 
and  at  length  climbed  out  and  let  down  the 
drawbridge.  Lusignan's  men  marched  in  in 


The  Siege  of  Chateau  Gaillard 

good  order  and,  wheeling  slightly  to  the  right, 
pressed  to  the  entrance  of  the  castle.  But  the 
defenders  had  had  time  to  man  the  many- 
towered  walls,  to  recover  from  their  surprise, 
and  to  grasp  the  situation.  Richard's  ingenuity 
was  now  demonstrated.  A  movable  bridge 
high  in  air  connected  the  castle  with  one  of  the 
towers  of  the  outer  walls,  so  that  though 
the  bailey  was  in  the  possession  of  the  French, 
the  six  great  towers  with  their  connecting 
courtines  which  hemmed  it  in  were  still  in  the 
hands  of  the  besieged,  and  from  these  they 
kept  up  from  all  sides  a  galling  fire  on  the  in- 
vaders. The  French  saw  that  unless  this 
chemin  de  ronde  (see  Note  B)  was  secured  the 
bailey  was  only  for  them  an  arena  of  death. 
Evidently  the  next  feat  to  be  performed  was 
to  disconnect  the  outer  walls  from  the  main 
fortress  by  destroying  the  bridge,  to  reach 
which  it  was  necessary  for  us  to  thread  a  nar- 
row lane  between  the  walls  of  the  outer  and 
inner  enclosure,  and  close  to  the  great  donjon, 
from  whose  battlements  molten  lead  was  con- 
tinually raining.  Lusignan  would  not  allow 
his  men  to  venture  unprotected  into  such  a 
trap,  and  a  beffroi,  covered  on  all  sides  with 
green  rawhides  and  manipulated  from  within 
by  a  few  resolute  men,  was  trundled  along  be- 


320  Feudal  Chateaux 

tween  the  walls,  from  whose  tops  projectiles  of 
all  kinds  were  poured  upon  it,  with  showers  of 
Greek  fire.  In  spite  of  its  protection  the  roof 
of  the  beffroi  caught,  and  the  flames  streamed 
upward.  Nothing  daunted,  the  soldiers  within 
continued  to  roll  it  forward,  until  they  had 
placed  it  directly  under  the  bridge.  Then  they 
deserted  the  burning  tower  and  made  a  dash 
for  safety.  In  vain  :  they  were  all  shot  down 
before  reaching  their  ranks.  But  the  burning 
engine  remained,  and  the  bridge  was  ignited 
by  the  very  flames  which  the  besieged  had 
kindled.  A  few  crossed  to  the  castle  while  it 
was  burning,  but  the  greater  part  of  the  de- 
fenders, scattered  along  the  long  line  of  battle- 
ments, did  not  understand  their  situation  until 
the  charred  planks  fell  and  they  saw  them- 
selves cut  off  from  the  stronghold.  These  de- 
serted the  courtines  and  collected  in  the 
Magian's  Tower,  but  as  they  were  deprived  of 
provisions  and  water  they  soon  saw  that  there 
was  no  hope  in  their  situation,  and  surrend- 
ered. Our  forces  now  took  possession  of  the 
bailey  with  its  surrounding  walls  and  towers, 
its  chapel  and  outbuildings,  and  the  great  un- 
derground caverns,  and  we  now  entered  upon 
the  third  stage  of  the  siege,  the  reduction  of 
the  real  stronghold,  in  which  the  English  were 


ATTACK  BY  THE  DRAWBRIDGE  FROM  THE  BEFFROI. 

Thus  described  by  Froissarf. 

"  Two  belfries  of  great  timber  with  III.  stages,  every  belfry  on  four  great  wheels 
and  the  sides  were  covered  with  cure  boly  \cuir  bouilli,  rawhide],  to  defend  them, 
from  fire." 


The  Siege  of  Chateau  Gaillard     321 

now  straitly  shut  up.  It  had  been  a  long 
and  weary  business  and  we  had  not  much  to 
boast.  The  leaves  upon  the  trees  were  green 
when  we  gaily  spread  our  pavilions  around 
Gaillard.  We  had  seen  them  turn  sere  and 
fall,  and  the  wind  had  whistled  snow  and  ice 
through  the  leafless  branches.  Our  men  had 
died  by  hundreds.  Various  distempers  in- 
duced by  the  cold  played  havoc  among  our 
soldiery,  who  shivered  in  their  comfortless 
tents  and  saw  with  envy  the  great  fires  glar- 
ing behind  the  thick  castle  walls  and  heard  in 
their  misery  songs  of  revelry  each  night.  We 
learned  afterward  that  only  twenty  of  the  Eng- 
lish died  during  the  siege  and  that  up  to  the 
last  they  had  hopes  of  holding  out  until  spring 
should  make  it  possible  for  John  to  lead  an 
army  to  their  relief.  We  also  began  to  dread 
this.  The  roads  were  an  ell  deep  in  mud,  but 
they  would  soon  become  settled,  the  weather 
was  much  milder,  and  it  was  evident  that  we 
must  hasten  to  complete  our  work  before  we 
were  ourselves  hemmed  in.  This  was  borne 
in  upon  Lusignan's  mind  more  emphatically 
6y  an  accident  which  happened  at  this  time. 

"  Ludovic,  after  his  exploit  with  Bogis,  had 
returned  to  the  River  Tower.  He  was  a  great 
hearty  fellow  and  I  liked  him  well,  and  we 


322  Feudal  Chateaux 

took  turns  in  watching  for  pigeons.  One  day 
I  heard  him  shout,  and  rushing  to  the  plat- 
form saw  that  two  pigeons  had  been  sent  off 
at  the  same  instant.  Ludovic  had  loosed  both 
the  falcons.  This  which  I  hold  in  my  fist,  the 
great  falcon  of  King  Richard,  soared,  struck, 
and  retrieved  its  prey,  bringing  the  quarry 
back  to  the  tower  and  dropping  it  at  my  feet. 
The  little  eyess  struck  bravely,  but  the  pigeon 
was  too  heavy  and  it  let  fall  the  wounded  bird 
below  the  castle  wall  and  returned  without  it 
to  the  block. 

"  There  was  a  letter  under  the  wing  of  the 
pigeon  which  the  great  falcon  had  brought 
back  which  my  master  read  with  eagerness. 
It  was  written  in  a  lady's  hand,  cramped  to  get 
all  possible  matter  in  the  least  possible  space, 
on  the  very  lightest  parchment,  and  read  as 
follows  : 

'  BELOVED  : 

'  Pardon  my  slowness  of  understanding.  I  have 
but  just  comprehended  why  these  pigeons  were  sent, 
and  that  thou  art  somewhere  near,  watching  over  my 
safety.  I  might  have  known  this  of  thy  fealty,  but  I 
have  been  very  wretched,  thinking  myself  deserted,  and 
wondering  what  would  happen  to  me  when  the  castle 
surrenders,  for  render  it  must  unless  we  are  relieved. 
But  now  I  trust  to  thee  to  care  for  me  when  that  terrible 
moment  comes.  I  will  hide  in  the  strong-tower,  but  will 


The  Siege  of  Chateau  Gaillard     323 

flutter  my  pink  scarf  from  the  casement  and  thou  wilt 
secure  my  safeguard.' 

"  The  letter  had  neither  address  nor  signa- 
ture, but  Lusignan  was  certain  that  it  was 
meant  for  him,  and  was  written  by  Isabelle. 
He  at  once  displayed  his  banner  with  the 
crescent  from  the  top  of  the  tower,  and  was 
wild  to  possess  the  other  pigeon  which  had 
fallen  on  the  cliff.  This  falcon  would  not  stoop 
for  dead  quarry,  so  it  was  of  no  use  to  send 
him  forth.  There  were  no  starving  people  on 
the  cliff  now  to  snatch  the  game  and  it  lay  in 
full  sight.  My  lord  was  about  to  issue  out  to 
secure  it,  but  Ludovic  had  already  started. 
He  climbed  the  cliff  bravely,  secured  the  bird, 
and  started  back,  waving  his  hand  to  us  gaily 
as  we  cheered  him  on.  But  there  had  been 
other  watchers  of  that  exploit,  and  an  arrow 
whistling  from  the  bow  of  Maitre  Yvon,  the 
commander  of  the  English  arbalisters,  struck 
Ludovic  between  the  shoulders.  He  gave  a 
great  leap  into  the  air,  and  fell  not  far  from 
the  foot  of  our  tower.  Lusignan  rushed  out 
and  bore  him  in,  and  he  died  in  his  arms,  mut- 
tering, '  To  be  shot  in  the  back  like  a 
coward ! ' 

"  My  master  was  sure  that  this  was  John's 
work,  and  that  he  had  suffered  his  Queen  to 


324  Feudal  Chateaux 

write  this  letter  to  make  him  show  himself, 
until  he  read  the  letter  under  the  wing  of  the 
second  pigeon,  which  lay  dead  within  the 
breast  of  the  dead  man. 

"This  letter  was  from  Roger  de  Lacey  to 
King  John,  urging  him  to  take  the  field  for 
the  relief  of  his  beleaguered  subjects,  '  For,' 
said  the  Constable  of  Chester,  '  no  matter 
how  strong  a  fortress  may  be,  it  must  render 
at  last  unless  help  come  from  without.' 

"  This  letter  gave  Lusignan  matter  for 
thought,  for  it  proved  that  they  within  the 
castle  thought  that  the  pigeons  had  been  sent 
them  from  Rouen  as  a  means  of  communica- 
tion with  their  friends  in  that  city.  Since  this 
was  so,  the  lady  who  wrote  the  love-letter  was 
not  the  Queen,  and  the  letter  was  not  intended 
for  Lusignan  but  for  some  English  knight. 

"  This  irked  my  master  sore,  but  he  carried 
the  intercepted  letters  to  the  King,  who  saw 
well  that  now  was  the  time  to  strike  the  final 
blow. 

"  The  fortress  which  it  was  now  our  busi- 
ness to  take  was  the  strongest  that  had  ever 
been  seen  in  France.  It  was  surrounded  not 
by  ordinary  walls,  but  by  an  enceinte  consist- 
ing of  nineteen  half-circular  towers  whose 
walls  were  three  yards  thick  and  had  no  win- 


The  Siege  of  Chateau  Gaillard     325 

dow  or  opening  of  any  kind  from  the  moat  at 
their  foot  to  the  battlements  thirty  feet  above. 
The  great  donjon-keep  on  one  side  was  eight 
yards  in  diameter  within,  and  its  walls  were 
four  and  a  half  yards  thick.  Its  roof  was  flat, 
to  accommodate  the  engines,  whose  projectiles 
were  kept  in  the  upper  story,  while  its  machi- 
colated  battlements  were  of  stone  instead  of 
the  inflammable  wooden  hoarding  hitherto 
used.  Even  should  the  French  take  the  court- 
yard, De  Lacey  boasted  that  the  donjon  was 
impregnable.  His  boasting  was  vain,  for  here 
Richard  had  made  his  one  fatal  mistake.  On 
the  6th  of  March,  1204,  our  miners,  operating 
from  the  shelter  of  the  underground  caverns, 
caused  one  of  the  semicircular  towers  to  fall 
in.  The  debris  filled  the  moat  and  formed  a 
causeway  on  which  the  besiegers  swarmed 
through  the  breach  and  into  the  court.  De 
Lacey  sounded  the  signal  for  a  retreat  from 
the  walls  to  the  donjon-keep,  but  when  the 
defenders  descended  from  their  posts  on  the 
battlements,  they  found  the  court  filled  with 
the  French,  and  had  to  fight  their  way  across 
to  the  donjon  door.  By  an  excess  of  caution 
on  the  part  of  Richard,  this  door  had  been  cut 
high  up  in  the  donjon  wall  and  was  approached 
by  a  narrow  staircase,  with  an  enfilading  meur* 


326  Feudal  Chateaux 

trtire  where  it  turned  sharply.  A  most  excel- 
lent  device  to  prevent  an  attacking  force  from 
entering,  since  it  could  only  be  mounted  single 
file,  but  unfortunately  presenting  the  same 
difficulties  to  the  refugees  who  now  sought 
entrance.  Roger  de  Lacey  and  his  160  men 
were  able  to  cut  their  way  only  to  the  foot  of 
the  staircase,  where  they  surrendered  to  the 
tremendous  odds  by  which  they  were  hemmed 
in.1 

"  The  prisoners  were  marched  to  Paris 
and  later  many  of  them  were  exchanged  and 
reached  England  in  safety.  The  women  and 
the  caretakers  of  the  wounded  had  already 
taken  refuge  in  the  donjon  before  the  last  dis- 
aster, and  De  Lacey  in  his  surrender  de- 
manded their  safeguard,  which  was  solemnly 
promised.  But  when  Lusignan,  at  the  com- 
mand of  the  King,  took  possession  of  the 
citadel  he  found  within  no  woman,  priest,  or 
physician,  only  the  wounded  lying  on  the 
floor,  but  so  well  cared  for  that  it  was  evident 
their  nurses  had  only  recently  left.  De  Lacey 
was  as  much  astonished  as  the  captors,  and 

1  Richard's  inventions  were  improved  upon  and  his  mistake  cor- 
rected by  the  castle-builders  who  followed  him.  The  plan  of  the 
donjon  of  Etampes  is  a  quatrefoil,  giving  better  flanking  than  a 
cylindrical  tower,  and  the  donjon  of  the  Louvre  had  its  door  on  the 
ground  floor,  to  give  easy  ingress  to  its  garrison  when  sore  beset. 


KEEP  OF  THE  CHATEAU  GAILLARD. 


The  Siege  of  Chateau  Gaillard     327 

feared  they  might  have  precipitated  them- 
selves from  the  top  of  the  tower,  but  no  traces 
of  them  could  be  found  in  the  trench  below. 

"  Leaving  Lusignan  with  a  small  body  of 
men  to  garrison  the  castle,  King  Philip  swept 
on  through  Normandy.  After  the  fall  of 
Chateau  Gaillard  the  remainder  of  his  cam- 
paign was  but  a  triumphal  march.  Falaise, 
the  fortress  next  in  strength,  resisted  only 
a  week.  Guy  de  Thonars  took  Mont  St. 
Michel,  and  Normandy  and  Brittany  were 
French.  Maine,  Anjou,  Touraine,  and  the 
greater  part  of  Aquitaine  sent  in  their  sub- 
mission, and  '  from  the  lordship  of  a  vast 
empire  that  stretched  from  the  Tyne  to  the 
Pyrenees,  John  saw  himself  reduced  at  a  blow 
to  the  realm  of  England.' 

"He  had  fled  overseas  before  his  faithful 
soldiers  shut  up  in  Chateau  Gaillard  had  given 
up  hoping  for  his  appearance,  and  Lusignan 
learned  to  his  intense  disappointment  that  he 
had  taken  the  Queen  with  him,  and  that  she 
had  not  been  within  the  castle  during  the 
siege.  He  was  not  long  left  in  uncertainty 
as  to  the  identity  of  the  lady  who  sent  the 
message  which  the  falcon  had  captured,  for 
the  day  after  he  was  left  in  charge  of  the  dis- 
mantled fortress  an  English  knight  bearing  a 


328  Feudal  Chateaux 

flag  of  truce  appeared  before  the  gate.  It  was 
Longsword,  who,  released  from  detention  in 
England,  had  braved  all  dangers  to  find  his 
bride. 

"He  was  distracted  by  her  disappearance, 
and  took  little  comfort  from  my  master's  opin- 
ion that  she  must  have  escaped  from  the  castle 
by  some  secret  way.  None  such  was  known 
to  Longsword,  and  he  was  in  the  depths  of  de- 
spair. Lusignan  pledged  him  his  word  as  a 
knight  to  put  forth  every  possible  effort  to 
find  and  restore  the  missing  ladies,  and  in 
token  of  this  promise  took  from  the  wall  of 
the  trophy  hall  and  gave  to  Longsword  a 
gauntlet  which  had  belonged  to  Richard.  It 
was  a  part  of  the  treasure  of  Chalus  and  had 
been  restored  to  my  lord  by  Philip  as  his 
right.  Though  unsuspected  by  its  owner  it 
may  have  possessed  some  magic  power,  for  as 
Longsword  drew  it  on  while  walking  deject- 
edly across  the  castle  court  something  very  re- 
markable happened. 

"  My  master  had  been  correct  in  his  sus- 
picions. Within  the  thick  wall  of  the  donjon 
there  was  a  secret  staircase  leading  by  an 
underground  passage  to  a  ruined  mill  on 
the  river  bank.  At  the  mill  were  hidden  a 
boat  and  provisions.  It  was  a  forlorn  hope, 


The  Siege  of  Chateau  Gaillard     329 

the  last  resort  in  case  every  other  means  of 
escape  failed.  Only  Richard  and  the  Moor- 
ish physician  knew  of  this  secret  way,  for 
the  workmen  who  constructed  it  had  been 
changed  so  frequently  that  none  of  them  knew 
the  relation  of  the  different  parts  or  the  design 
of  the  whole.  When  the  two  women,  the  phy- 
sician, and  the  priest,  who  were  tending  the 
wounded  in  the  donjon,  saw  the  fall  of  the 
great  wall,  the  rout  of  their  defenders,  and 
the  French  swarming  into  the  castle  court,  they 
understood  perfectly  that  all  was  lost.  And 
when  the  physician  touched  a  hidden  spring 
and  a  tall  dresser  moved  into  the  room,  disclos- 
ing the  staircase,  they  followed  him  without 
question,  only  to  find  that  the  shock  of  the 
falling  wall  had  shaken  down  a  vast  quantity 
of  earth  and  choked  the  subterranean  passage. 
"  Remounting  the  staircase  they  discovered 
to  their  dismay  that  the  door  had  closed  firmly 
behind  them,  and  that  their  united  efforts 
were  powerless  to  open  it.  The  staircase  was 
lighted  by  a  narrow  loophole,  and  looking  out 
upon  the  court  they  could  see  that  the  French 
were  in  full  possession.  They  determined  that 
for  the  present  they  would  make  no  outcry. 
The  priest  had  caught  up  a  basket  of  bread 
and  a  jug  of  water  as  he  closed  in  the  retreat. 


330  Feudal  Chateaux 

They  had  an  abundance  of  fresh  air  and  they 
decided  for  the  present  to  remain  quietly  in 
their  hiding-place. 

"  They  watched  the  departure  of  the  main 
body  of  the  French,  and  began  to  wonder 
whether  the  castle  was  to  be  abandoned.  '  It 
would  be  a  pretty  fancy,'  said  the  priest,  *  if 
they  should  decide  to  burn  it  and  us  with  it, 
like  rats  in  the  walls.' 

"  The  suggestion  was  so  terrible,  as  well  as 
the  fear  of  being  left  to  starve  to  death,  that 
they  called  aloud  with  all  their  force,  but  with 
out  attracting  any  attention.  Two  nights  of 
discomfort  and  anxiety,  two  days  of  fear,  and 
now  their  provisions  had  given  out,  and  their 
voices  were  hoarse  and  weak.  An  ominous 
stillness  reigned  around,  when  suddenly  (as 
the  young  Countess  of  Salisbury  told  us  after- 
ward) an  unreasoning  impulse  made  her  fly  to 
the  narrow  window  and  recognise  her  dear 
lord,  just  mounting  his  horse.  She  cried 
aloud,  but  though  he  paused  irresolutely  and 
looked  around,  he  fancied  the  faint  cry  of 
*  William,  beloved ! '  was  but  an  echo  of  his 
imagination.  Through  the  narrow  slit  she 
thrust  her  arm  and  fluttered  a  rose-coloured 
scarf.  He  did  not  see  it,  but  there  were  sharper 
eyes  in  the  head  of  this  good  falcon  chained  to 


The  Siege  of  Chateau  Gaillard     331 

the  block.  He  shook  his  bells  and  beat  the  air 
with  his  strong  wings.  I  had  just  brought 
Longsword's  horse,  and  I  unfastened  the 
thong,  wondering  what  quarry  the  royal  bird 
recognised.  Longsword  drew  rein  and  watched 
the  bird  mechanically.  It  mounted,  stooped, 
and  tangled  its  claws  in  the  scarf,  then  flew 
with  it  to  me  at  my  call.  But  Longsword  was 
off  his  horse,  and  had  snatched  his  lady's  favour 
before  I  had  time  to  release  the  falcon.  One 
end  of  the  torn  scarf  still  waved  from  the  win- 
dow. I  brought  a  scaling-ladder,  and  the 
knight  mounted  to  the  opening,  learned  who 
was  imprisoned  within  the  walls,  and  how  to 
release  them. 

"  My  master  treated  them  most  courteously, 
and  allowed  the  ladies  to  go  away  with  Long- 
sword, furnishing  them  with  an  escort  to  the 
coast.  The  priest,  too,  was  given  his  freedom, 
but  the  physician  was  retained,  for  he  pos- 
sessed the  knowledge  of  many  useful  secrets, 
among  others  the  manufacture  of  Greek  fire. 
This  man  was  not  particular  whom  he  served, 
and  Lusignan  re-established  him  in  the  Magi- 
an's  Tower,  which  Richard  had  fitted  up  for  him, 
where  he  continued  the  exercise  of  his  black 
art.  He  had  a  great  fascination  for  me,  and  I 
used  often  to  repair  thither  to  watch  him  at 


332  Feudal  Chateaux 

his  work,  though  at  times  I  was  all  but  choked 
by  the  unchristian  odours  which  issued  from 
his  laboratory.  He  had  a  precious  elixir,  which 
he  kept  hidden  in  a  phial  of  rock  crystal ;  but 
one  day  I  entered  and  surprised  him  as  he  had 
poured  some  of  it  into  a  glass.  When  his  back 
was  turned  for  a  moment  my  falcon  flew  from 
my  wrist  and  drank  from  the  glass.  I  made  a 
loud  outcry :  '  He  is  poisoned  !  my  beautiful 
bird  will  die ! '  The  alchemist  turned  pale. 
'  He  will  not  die,'  he  gasped  ;  '  he  will  never 
die.  It  was  the  Elixir  of  Life  ! '  He  drove 
me  from  his  laboratory,  and  would  never  suffer 
me  to  enter  it  again,  for  he  feared  that  I  would 
rob  him  of  his  precious  elixir.  There  was  no 
need  :  while  fondling  my  pet,  which  I  believed 
poisoned,  a  single  drop  from  his  beak  had 
touched  my  lips,  and  I,  too,  can  never  die." 

"  I  understand  now  your  great  age,"  I  said  ; 
"  but  tell  me  more  of  the  armour  which  you  say 
may  have  had  something  to  do  in  bringing 
Longsword  and  his  betrothed  together.  What 
made  you  suspect  that  it  had  any  agency  in 
the  matter  ?  " 

"  This  same  Moorish  physician.  He  pointed 
to  the  rest  of  the  armour  in  the  great  hall  when 
he  was  brought  before  my  master  after  his  cap- 
ture, and  promised,  if  his  life  was  spared,  to  tell 


The  Siege  of  Chateau  Gaillard     333 

him  a  great  secret.  This  was  that  the  jewels 
with  which  it  was  studded  had  the  power  of 
bringing  together  faithful  lovers. 

"  My  master  did  not  believe  him,  but  long 
years  thereafter,  while  arranging  his  armoury  at 
Le  Croizant,  he  came  upon  the  jewelled  armour 
which  had  been  sent  from  Castle  Gaillard.  He 
put  it  on  out  of  mere  idleness  and  that  night 
he  heard  that  the  widowed  Queen  of  King 
John  had  returned  to  her  native  city  of  An- 
gouleme.  Lusignan's  hair  was  white  but  his 
youthful  ardour  was  not  cooled,  and  Isabelle, 
whose  life  as  a  Queen  had  been  one  of  wretch- 
edness, in  her  thirty-fifth  year  fulfilled  the 
promise  which  she  had  made  in  her  fifteenth 
and,  marrying  her  faithful  lover,  proved  that 
the  tenderest  love  of  all  is  an  old  love  revived. 

"  I  remained  with  them  as  long  as  they 
lived,  and  often  my  lady  would  have  me  in 
her  bower  to  tell  the  story  of  this  falcon.  Le 
Croizant  is  a  ruin  now.  No  one  goes  there, 
and  so  I  have  come  to  Gaillard  and  made  my- 
self and  the  bird  a  nest  in  the  River  Tower, 
and  there  we  live  over  the  siege  in  telling  its 
story  to  appreciative  people  like  Monsieur  and 
Madame. 

"  Thank  you,  Monsieur,  for  the  coin.  No,  I 
could  not  sell  my  bird.  You  might  be  kind  to 


334  Feudal  Chateaux 

him,  but  you  see  you  will  die  some  day,  while 
I  can  care  for  him  for  ever." 

He  went  away  down  the  hill  to  the  River 
Tower — and  we  saw  him  no  more.  Several 
years  later,  when  visiting  Les  Andelys  again, 
we  inquired  for  the  young  man  who  had  read 
and  studied  so  much  about  the  past  that  he  be- 
lieved he  had  lived  in  it. 

"  But  yes,"  our  innkeeper  replied,  "  the 
Scattered  One.  He  is  a  sad  warning,  Madame, 
to  those  who  read  romances.  He  fancied  that 
he  and  his  bird  could  never  die.  Figure  to 
yourself  the  imbecility  !  Ah  well,  what  would 
you  !  A  hunter  took  the  falcon  for  a  wild 
hawk  and  shot  it,  and  that  foolish  Papiol  shut 
himself  in  his  tower  and  died  of  grief.  The 
room  was  full  of  books.  We  burned  them  all 
that  they  might  do  no  more  mischief." 

NOTE  A 

Though  Richard  called  Gaillard  his  "  daughter  of 
one  year,"  he  had  gone  on  strengthening  it  and  furnish- 
ing it  until  his  death,  and  the  pay-rolls  of  "  £chiquier 
Normand"  for  1198  and  1199,  preserved  in  the  Tower 
of  London,  give  us  some  idea  of  its  strength  and  re- 
sources. 

Some  of  the  items  are  : 

For  five  thousand  arrow-heads, £      10 

"     wheat  and  wine 227 


The  Siege  of  Chateau  Gaillard     335 

For  ten  thousand  herrings £       14 

"  Sawal,  son  of  Henri,  and  his  associates, 
Robert  and  Matthew,  master  masons  dur- 
ing two  years l,1°° 

"     carpenters 3,35° 

wood-cutters 2,320 

"     inferior  workmen 9,73° 

guardians  and  porters 543 

"     smiths 250 

arrow-makers 200 

diggers  of  moats 178 

digging  three  wells 300 

asses 4,°4° 

mill  in  the  castle 149 

The  total  expenditure  by  Richard  is  estimated  at 
^178,000,  an  enormous  sum  for  those  days. 

The  accounts  give  the  names,  not  only  of  the  master 
masons,  of  whom  Sawal  seems  to  have  been  the  director, 
and,  under  Richard,  engineer  and  architect,  but  also 
of  many  of  the  employees  who  were  members  of  the  per- 
manent garrison.  Maitre  Yvon,  a  Norman,  was  head 
of  the  arbalisters  ;  Girard  de  Flandre  and  his  brother 
Arnouet,  armourers,  were  employed  from  the  fete  of  St. 
Jean  to  that  of  St.  Cecile,  making  152  days  at  42 
sous  per  day.  Alain  Wastehouse  commanded  106 
"  sergents,"  or  Norman  tenants  of  Richard's  lands  in  the 
neighbourhood,  who  owed  homage  or  honourable  serv- 
ice under  arms  to  the  King's  person  and  were  con- 
sidered of  higher  rank  than  regular  soldiers,  only  repair- 
ing to  the  castle  when  it  was  in  danger. 

The  garrison  was  divided  into  three  relays,  each  serv- 
ing one-third  of  the  time,  so  that  the  walls  were  manned 
night  and  day. 


336  Feudal  Chateaux 

"All  of  these  knights  were  sheathed  in  steel 
With  belted  sword  and  spur  on  heel ; 
They  quitted  not  their  harness  bright, 
Neither  by  day  nor  yet  by  night : 

They  lay  down  to  rest 

With  corselet  laced, 
Pillowed  on  buckler  cold  and  hard ; 

They  carved  at  the  meal 

With  gloves  of  steel. 
And  they  drank  the  red  wine  through  the  helmet  barred." 

NOTE  B 

The  chemin  de  ronde  was  the  walk  along  the  battle- 
ments of  the  outer  walls  ;  its  sentries  commanded  not 
only  the  exterior  of  the  walls,  but  the  court  within. 
Scott's  description  of  this  straggling  patrol-walk  is  inter- 
esting in  this  connection  : 

"  The  turret  held  a  narrow  stair, 
Which,  mounted,  gave  you  access  where 
A  parapet's  embattled  row 
Did  seaward  round  the  castle  go  ; 
Sometimes  in  dizzy  steps  descending, 
Sometimes  in  narrow  circuit  bending, 
Sometimes  in  platform  broad  extending. 
Its  varying  circle  did  combine 
Bulwark  and  bartizan  and  line, 
And  bastion,  tower,  and  vantage  coign." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  WAR  OF  THE  THREE  JOANS 

Aux  Ruines  de  Montfort  I'Amaury 

Je  vous  aime,  6  debris  !  et  surtout  quand  1'automne 

Prolonge  en  vos  echos  sa  plainte  monotone. 

Sous  vos  abris  croulants  je  voudrais  habiter, 
Vieille  tours,  que  le  temps  vers  1'autre  incline, 
Et  qui  semble  de  loin,  sur  la  haute  colline, 

Deux  noirs  geants  prets  a  lutter. 

Lorsque  d'un  pas  reveur  foulant  les  grandes  herbes, 

Je  monte  jusqu'a  vous,  restes  forts  et  superbes  ! 

Je  contemple  longtemps  vos  creneaux  meutriers, 
Et  la  tour  octogone  et  ses  briques  rougies, 
Et  mon  ceil,  a  travers  vos  breches  elargies, 

Voit  jouer  des  enfants,  ou  mouraient  des  guerriers. 

Ecoutez  de  vos  murs  ceux  qui  leur  chute  amuse  ! 

Laissez  le  seul  poete  y  conduire  sa  muse, 

Lui  qui  donne  du  moins  une  larme  au  vieux  fort ; 
Et,  si  1'air  froid  des  nuits  sous  vos  arceaux  murmure, 
Croit  qu'une  ombre  a  froisse  la  gigantesque  armure 

De  I'Amaury,  comte  de  Montfort. — VICTOR  HUGO. 
22  337 


338  Feudal  Chateaux 

The  legends  of  Provence  wakened  within  us 
longings  to  penetrate  farther  into  that  charmed 
land  of  the  troubadours ;  to  follow  the  after- 
history  of  Raymond  and  Joan  at  Toulouse  ; 
to  watch  the  Crusaders  departing  from  Aigues- 
Mortes,  or  to  listen  to  the  very  earliest  tradi- 
tions of  how  Aimeri  of  Narbonne  defended 
his  city  from  the  Moors.  More  fascinating 
still  was  the  possibility  of  finding  traces  in 
the  crypts  beneath  the  palace  of  the  popes 
at  Avignon  of  that  subterranean,  or  rather 
subfluvian,  passage  which,  dipping  beneath  the 
river  Durance,  is  said  to  connect  the  palace 
with  Chateau  Renard  on  the  opposite  shore. 

Mistral  makes  Nerto  fly  through  this  awe- 
some tunnel,  nearly  fainting  with  fear,  and 
stunned  by  the  noise  with  which  the  river 
bowls  great  stones  along  its  rock-lined  alley 
overhead.  We  sympathised  with  Mr.  Janvier 
when  he  says :  "  Modern  engineers  have  had 
the  effrontery  to  assert  that  the  passage  is 
impossible,  but  I  am  the  last  person  in  the 
world  who  would  set  an  idle  engineering 
fiction  in  array  against  an  established  poetic 
fact.  I  do  not  doubt  for  a  moment  that  the 
passage  exists." 

We  would  like  to  have  lived  at  Avignon 
at  its  period  of  greatest  splendour,  when  the 


OLD  TOWER  AT  MONTFORT  L'AMAURY. 


The  War  of  the  Three  Joans      339 

popes  reigned  in  their  great  castle,  and  the 
people 

"  dansatent,  dansaient, 
Sur  le  pont  d 'Avignon" 

that  famous  bridge  which  the  Hospitallers, 
the  great  military  engineers  of  the  time, 
built,  with  many  another  with  hospice  and 
chapel,  to  make  the  Roman  roads  practicable 
for  travellers. 

How  thrilling  a  sight  it  would  have  been 
to  watch  a  tournament  in  the  lists  between 
the  double  walls  of  Carcassonne,  or,  more 
fearful  spectacle,  the  siege  of  those  walls 
by  old  Simon  de  Montfort,  and  his  death  be- 
fore Toulouse.  But  Provence  with  all  its 
witchery  was  to  be  reserved  for  another  sea- 
son, and  we  turned  northward,  wandering 
among  the  chateaux  of  the  Loire,  until  we 
found  ourselves  drawn  again  to  Brittany,  to 
trace  in  another  group  of  castles  the  very 
same  family  of  de  Montfort  from  which 
sprang  Simon,  the  scourge  of  Provence  and 
the  persecutor  of  the  troubadours,  who  had 
developed  the  questionable  tenets  of  the 
Albigenses. 

As  we  sped  from  Paris  on  our  way  to 
Chateau  La  Joyeuse  at  the  very  beginning  of 
our  pilgrimage,  we  passed  the  ruins  of  the 


34°  Feudal  Chateaux 

birthplace  of  the  family.  On  the  site  of  this 
their  most  ancient  ancestral  castle,  Montfort 
1'Amaury,  there  existed  in  the  time  of  the 
Gauls  a  village  with  an  oppidum,  to  which  the 
Romans  gave  the  name  of  Mons  fortis,  and 
this  was  the  origin  of  the  name  of  the  power- 
ful dukes  of  Brittany.  Several  daughters  of 
the  house  became  queens.  France  claims  with 
greatest  pride  the  twice-crowned  Anne  de 
Bretagne,  successively  wife  of  Charles  VIII. 
and  Louis  XII.  Other  queens  of  this  family 
have  brought  the  country  only  disaster  and 
bloodshed.  Of  one  of  these,  Bertrarde,  wife  of 
Philip  I.,  we  have  already  found  souvenirs  at 
Angers,  where,  as  Duchess  of  Anjou,  she  lived 
with  her  first  husband,  Foulque  Rechin.  Her 
niece,  Luciane  de  Montfort,  married  Louis 
VI.,  and  the  war  into  which  these  two  de 
Montfort  queens  plunged  France  was  only  less 
bloody  than  that  which  the  intrepid  Joan,  or 
Jeanne,  la  Flamme  carried  on  for  twenty-five 
years  to  preserve  the  dukedom  of  Brittany 
for  her  son. 

We  found  traces  of  the  de  Montforts  again 
and  again  in  our  wanderings,  always  with  the 
same  family  traits, — courage,  ambition,  obstin- 
acy, and  frequently  unscrupulousness.  They 
repeated  not  only  the  same  characteristics  but 


The  War  of  the  Three  Joans      34 l 

the  same  names,  so  that  it  is  often  puzzling 
to  differentiate  the  Amaurys,  Simons,  and 
Jeans. 

Their  original  home  is  in  ruins,  but  all 
through  Brittany  they  built,  conquered,  or 
gained  by  matrimonial  alliance  other  castles, 
and  the  blazing  torch  of  Jeanne  la  Flamme 
scarred  many  another  during  the  quarter  of  a 
century  during  which  it  flickered  like  a  will-o'- 
the-wisp,  or,  gaining  force,  swept  all  before  it 
in  a  tornado  of  fire. 

Ploermel,  in  the  heart  of  Brittany,  was  to  be 
the  next  centre  from  which  our  legend-grasping 
fingers  would  radiate  like  the  tentacles  of  an 
octopus.  We  had  promised  Anatole,  as  we 
jaunted  through  Finistere,  that  after  we  had 
been  to  Touraine  we  would  surely  come  to 
Ploermel,  and  this  promise  was  made  on  the 
assurance  that  it  was  the  town  of  all  Brittany 
richest  in  old  traditions. 

In  its  neighbourhood  the  old  chansons  de 
geste  placed  Merlin's  castle  of  the  Forest  of 
Broecilande,  and  in  later  times  Ploermel  was 
the  very  vortex- of  that  War  of  the  Three  Joans 
which  in  the  Middle  Ages  drew  every  Breton 
into  its  maelstrom,  and  shook  every  castle  in 
Brittany. 

Our  first  excursion  from  Ploermel  was  the 


342  Feudal  Chateaux 

regulation  one  to  Chateau  Josselin,  the  home 
of  the  De  Clissons. 

The  older  portion  of  this  beautiful  chateau 
formed  a  part  of  the  feudal  stronghold  in 
which  centred  more  than  one  stirring  episode 
of  the  war.  Before  launching  into  this  period 
I  was  eager  to  learn  whether  there  were  any 
local  traditions  of  Viviane's  enchanted  castle, 
and  as  we  drove  toward  Josselin  I  strove  to 
lead  Anatole's  memory  backward  to  any 
legends  which  he  might  have  heard  of  the 
very  earliest  times. 

"Anatole,"  I  said,  "  you  know  all  the  forests 
in  the  vicinity  of  Ploermel?" 

"  None  better,  Madame.  I  was  garde-chasse 
for  the  late  Duke." 

"  So  I  have  heard." 

"  And  Monsieur  le  Due  was  very  fond  of 
hunting  and  leased  the  right  to  chase  the 
boar  on  the  estates  of  his  neighbours.  I  have 
ridden  over  every  acre  for  miles  around." 

"Then  you  can  doubtless  tell  me  the  exact 
whereabouts  of  the  Forest  of  Broecilande  ? " 

Anatole  shook  his  head  doubtfully.  "It  can- 
not be  a  wood  of  any  great  extent,"  he  replied. 
"  I  have  never  heard  it  mentioned." 

"  On  the  contrary  it  is  an  immense  tract  of 
country  here  in  the  heart  of  Brittany.  It  is 


JOSSELIN  — EXTERIOR  VIEW. 


The  War  of  the  Three  Joans      343 

celebrated  in  literature,  and  very  wonderful 
things  happened  there,  which  I  have  read  of 
even  in  English  books." 

"Ak,  fa!  it  exists  then,  probably,  only  in 
the  imaginations  of  your  English  writers.  They 
are  great  liars ;  it  is  scandalous  what  things 
they  will  write  about  France  without  ever 
having  been  here.  If  Madame  saw  it  in  a 
book  it  has  doubtless  no  other  existence." 

"  But,  Anatole,  I  have  just  been  reading  about 
it  in  a  French  book.  The  forest  belonged  to 
the  Comte  de  Laval,  and  here  is  a  detailed  de- 
scription of  it  made  out  for  its  proprietor." 

"  The  Comte  de  Laval?  That  is  more  reason- 
able. He  had  a  surveyor  from  Paris  go  over 
the  boundaries,  for  there  was  a  dispute  between 
him  and  the  Due  de  Rohan  about  some  of  the 
forests.  It  was  all  settled  bylaw.  If  it  is  in  the 
title-deeds  of  the  Comte  de  Laval  it  is  all  right. 
He  was  a  hard  man,  but  a  just.  My  father 
knew  him." 

"  Not  this  Comte  de  Laval,  Anatole,  for  the 
paper  of  which  I  speak  is  dated  August  30, 

1467." 

"Fichtre !     That  was  a  long  while  ago." 
"  Not  so  far  back  as  the  events  which  hap- 
pened in  this  forest  in  which  I  am  interested. 
I  would  not  care  a  button  for  the  locality  but 


344  Feudal  Chateaux 

that  somewhere  within  its  limits  there  is  an 
enchanted  castle  in  which  Merlin  was  shut  up 
in  the  sixth  century." 

"  Does  the  Comte  de  Laval  say  so  ?" 

"  Yes.  The  description  which  was  made  out 
for  him  expressly  states  that  this  castle  is  to  be 
sought  for  between  Ploermel  and  Montfort." 

"C'est  curieux ;  that  might  be  anywhere 
about  here.  What  else  does  the  paper  say 
about  the  forest  ?  " 

"A  great  deal.     Listen  : 

'  The  said  forest  contains  four  chateaux  and  maisons 
fortes. 

'  Item  :  in  the  said  forest  are  two  hundred  dif- 
ferent woods,  each  having  a  different  name,  and  as 
many  fountains. 

*  Item  :  a  wood  named  Au  Seigneur,  in  which  no  ve- 
nomous beast  or  insect  can  live.' 

"  That  is  true,  Madame ;  there  is  such  a  wood, 
though  no  man  can  ever  find  it.  But  the 
beasts  know  it  well,  and  in  the  summer  when 
the  cattle  are  afflicted  with  swarms  of  madden- 
ing flies,  they  all  set  out  for  this  wood,  frantic 
and  bellowing  with  pain,  with  their  tails  in  the 
air,  and  they  come  back  calmly  at  night,  de- 
livered from  that  pest,  their  bells  chiming  a 
psalm  of  thanksgiving.  That  is  no  fiction — it 
is  gospel  truth.  A  holy  hermit  lived  there 


The  War  of  the  Three  Joans      345 

long  ago,  who  loved  the  beasts,  at  least  the 
good  ones,  and  would  not  have  them  tormented. 
It  might  be  a  good  scheme  to  follow  the  next 
afflicted  animals  we  see,  and  so,  perhaps,  come 
to  the  place  Madame  seeks." 

"  True,  but  the  description  does  not  state 
precisely  that  the  enchanted  castle  was  in  this 
holy  wood,  which  was  only  one  of  two  hundred 
divisions  of  the  forest.  Many  of  the  two 
hundred  fountains  seem  to  have  been  endowed 
with  magical  qualities.  One  is  described  that 
always  boiled  whenever  the  Sieur  de  Montfort 
came  near  it.  No  matter  at  what  hour  of  the 
day  or  night  or  however  dry  the  season,  if  the 
Sieur  stood  upon  its  margin  the  fountain  bub- 
bled up  until  its  waves  touched  his  feet,  when 
it  would  sink  again  with  a  sobbing  sound ;  and 
this  it  would  do  for  no  one  else." 

"That  must  have  been  because  the  nymph 
of  the  fountain  was  in  love  with  the  Sieur  de 
Montfort.  Poor  little  fairy ;  if  he  could  have 
found  the  right  spell,  she  might  have  become 
human  for  a  part  of  the  time  at  least,  but  those 
Montforts  were  all  cruel,  not  gentil  like  the  De 
Clissons." 

"  Then  what  I  have  read  you  of  the  Forest  of 
Brcecilande  does  not  seem  impossible?" 

"  But  no,  Madame,  especially  if  it  was  a  long 


346  Feudal  Chateaux 

while  ago ;  and  I  should  like  to  know  more 
about  the  enchanted  castle." 

"  You  have  heard  doubtless  of  King  Arthur 
and  his  knights  of  the  Table  Round  ?  " 

Anatole  nodded.  "Mais  certainement j  in 
history  at  the  school  when  I  was  a  boy,  my 
schoolmaster  was  always  telling  us  about  him 
and  the  good  St.  Louis.  Was  he  King  of 
France  before  Francois  Premier  or  afterwards, 
Madame  ?  " 

"  Arthur  was  King  of  Great  Britain,  not  of 
France,  though  the  early  Breton  chronicles 
have  much  to  say  of  him,  and  of  his  enchanter, 
Merlin.  Indeed,  all  that  the  English  know  of 
Merlin  was  copied  from  old  Breton  manu- 
scripts. Merlin  was  the  son  of  a  nun  and  of  a 
devil,  but  all  wickedness  was  driven  out  of  him 
at  baptism  by  a  holy  hermit,  to  whom  he 
swore  to  do  nothing  contrary  to  the  will  of 
Jesus  Christ.  He  was  a  powerful  magician 
and  performed  many  wonderful  feats  for  King 
Arthur  until  he  was  imprisoned  somewhere 
hereabouts  in  the  Forest  of  Brcecilande  by 
his  wife  Viviane.  Have  you  never  heard  of 
their  names?" 

"  Yes,  Madame,  but  certainly ;  still  my  mother 
is  better  versed  in  those  matters  than  I,  and 
as  she  is  coming  to  Ploermel  to  visit  us  shortly 


The  War  of  the  Three  Joans       347 

she  will  doubtless  be  able  to  answer  all  Ma- 
dame's  inquiries." 

So  Zephyre  was  coming-  to  Ploermel,  and 
after  all  I  might  be  granted  a  second  oppor- 
tunity for  unravelling  the  entire  mystery  of 
the  La  Joyeuse  grotesque  face  with  its  magical 
lodestone  eyes.  I  was  therefore  all  the  more 
content  to  remain  in  the  picturesque  old  town, 
absorbing  the  histories  of  the  Montforts,  the 
Lavals,  and  Du  Guesclin  as  developed  in  the 
War  of  the  Three  Joans. 

No  conflict  carried  on  entirely  within  and  in 
the  interests  of  a  province  in  all  "  the  eternal 
welter  of  little  wars  "  is  more  dramatic  than  this 
war.  It  was  really  an  electoral  contest,  more 
sanguinary  but  not  more  bitter  than  the  wordy 
war  we  carry  on  in  the  United  States  when  we 
elect  a  governor  of  New  York.  In  April,  1341, 
the  Duke  of  Brittany  died  in  Caen  childless, 
and  the  succession  to  the  duchy  was  in  dispute. 
As  there  was  no  direct  heir  it  reverted  to  the 
Duke's  next  brother.  But  this  next  brother, 
Guy,  Count  of  Penthievre,  had  died  before 
him,  and  had  left  no  sons — only  a  daughter, 
Joan  (or  Jeanne),  married  to  Charles  of  Blois, 
nephew  of  Philip  VI.,  King  of  France.  The 
third  brother,  John,  Count  of  Montfort,  dis- 
puted his  niece's  claim  under  the  Salic  law,  but 


348  Feudal  Chateaux 

Joan  insisted  that  while  it  ruled  succession  to 
the  throne  of  France,  it  had  no  bearing  on  the 
governance  of  Brittany,  and  she  appealed  to 
her  husband's  uncle,  the  King  of  France. 
Philip  at  once  championed  her  cause ;  while 
the  Count  of  Montfort,  who  had  seized  the 
principal  cities  of  Brittany,  secured  the  support 
of  the  King  of  England. 

It  was  a  strange  complication  for  the  two 
kings  who  set  forward  their  candidates  to 
this  gubernatorial  election.  Philip,  who  pro- 
claimed himself  in  favor  of  woman's  rights  in 
Brittany,  held  his  own  throne  by  virtue  of  the 
Salic  law,  while  Edward  III.  was  defending 
succession  in  the  male  line  only  in  a  province 
of  the  very  country  in  which  he  was  fighting 
for  his  own  pretensions  to  the  crown  through 
maternal  descent.  The  situation  was  anom- 
alous in  another  particular.  The  two  countries 
were  at  truce,  and  while  their  armies  renewed 
the  fight  in  Brittany,  France  and  England 
were  declared  not  to  be  at  war. 

The  conflict  speedily  resolved  itself  into  a 
Ladies'  War,  for  in  the  first  campaign  the 
Count  of  Montfort  was  carried  prisoner  to 
Paris  and  shut  up  in  the  Louvre.  His  wife, 
who  was  also  named  Joan,  donned  armour  and 
rode  from  town  to  town  at  the  head  of  the 


The  War  of  the  Three  Joans      349 

English  auxiliaries,  and  with  her  youthful  son 
continued  the  war  with  great  spirit.  Besieged 
in  the  port  of  Hennebon  she  made  a  brilliant 
sortie  and  set  fire  to  the  tents  and  baggage- 
train  of  the  French  ;  and  this  conflagration  did 
so  much  damage  that  it  won  for  her  the  name 
of  "Jeanne  la  Flamme." 

Charles  of  Blois  was  made  prisoner  and  shut 
up  in  the  Tower  of  London.  But  Joan  of  Blois 
was  of  the  same  temper  as  Joan  of  Montfort. 
During  the  next  year  the  Count  of  Montfort 
died,  but  the  two  Joans  still  fought  doughtily. 
When  Charles  of  Blois  obtained  his  liberty, 
weary  of  the  struggle,  he  signed  a  treaty  giving 
up  half  of  Brittany  to  the  young  son  of  the 
Count  and  Countess  of  Montfort ;  but  his  wife, 
Jeanne  de  Penthievre,  insisted  that  the  province 
belonged  to  her  and  that  he  had  no  right  to  give 
what  he  did  not  own.  "  I  married  you,"  she 
said,  "to  defend  my  inheritance,  not  to  yield 
the  half  of  it,"  and  the  treaty  was  broken. 

While  these  two  Joans  were  heading  the  arm- 
ies of  France  and  England  so  obstinately,  an- 
other Joan,  the  wife  of  Oliver  I.  of  Clisson,  threw 
herself  into  the  conflict.  Clisson  was  supposed 
to  be  the  vassal  of  France,  but  Philip  believed 
that  he  was  intriguing  with  England,  and  had 
him  arrested  at  a  tournament  in  Paris  and  sum- 


35°  Feudal  Chateaux 

marily  beheaded.  Before  this  was  generally 
known  J oan  de  Clisson,  in  her  revenge,  rode  with 
her  husband's  troops  to  a  castle  of  the  Count  de 
Blois,  was  admitted  without  suspicion,  and  had 
the  entire  garrison,  but  one,  put  to  the  sword. 
She  then  fled  to  the  Countess  of  Montfort  and 
placed  her  revenge  and  the  rights  of  her  son, 
a  boy  of  seven,  in  her  service  and  protection. 
Joan  of  Clisson  was  a  most  valuable  reinforce- 
ment. She  was  as  intrepid  and  more  cruel  than 
the  other  Joans,  and  it  was  at  his  mother's  side, 
fighting  against  France,  that  her  little  son 
learned  the  first  lessons  in  warfare  which  after- 
wards were  turned  to  such  good  account  in  de- 
fence of  his  country,  and  made  Oliver  II.  of 
Clisson  later  one  of  the  most  famous  constables 
of  France. 

The  Battle  of  the  Thirty  was  an  episode  of 
this  war.  The  three  Joans  each  possessed  dif- 
ferent castles  scattered  throughout  Brittany,  so 
that  the  scene  of  battle  was  not  confined  to  any 
one  locality.  The  de  Penthievres,  the  de  Mont- 
forts,  and  the  De  Clissons  were  related  and 
connected  by  marriage  with  nearly  all  the  noble 
houses  of  Brittany,  so  that  great  complication 
of  interests  resulted,  and  it  was  very  difficult 
for  many  of  the  seigneurs  to  decide  to  which 
party  they  belonged. 


The  War  of  the  Three  Joans      35 l 

Just  about  the  time  that  Joan  of  Clisson  of- 
fered her  services  to  the  Countess  of  Montfort, 
Joan  of  Blois  received  an  important  reinforce- 
ment  in  the  devotion  to  her  cause  of  a  young 
knight  destined  to  make  for  himself  a  name  as 
one  of  the  greatest  warriors  of  Christendom, 
Bertrand  Du  Guesclin.  He  was  born  near 
Rennes,  at  the  castle  of  Motte  Broon,  and 
two  of  his  ancestors  were  comrades  of  God- 
frey de  Bouillon  in  the  First  Crusade.  He  is 
spoken  of  as  "  the  ugliest  child  from  Rennes  to 
Dinan,  swarthy,  thickset,  broad-shouldered,  big- 
headed,  a  bad  fellow,  always  striking  or  being 
struck,  whom  his  tutor  abandoned  without  hav- 
ing been  able  to  teach  to  read." 

I  happened  to  quote  this  statement  to  Ana- 
tole  as  we  drove  from  Ploermel  to  Chateau 
Josselin. 

"  Pardon,  Madame,"  he  objected  ;  "  it  must 
have  been  in  an  English  book  that  Madame 
found  such  a  slander  as  that.  If  I  may  be 
permitted  to  speak,  I  will  tell  the  whole  truth 
of  that  matter — and  who  should  know  it  better, 
seeing  it  was.  in  this  neighbourhood  that  the 
great  Du  Guesclin  was  born,  and  came  to  his 
first  fame  ?  It  is  true  that  they  do  say  that  he 
did  not  take  to  his  books,  but  I  do  not  blame 
him  for  that,  for  I  have  found  them  a  bit  diffi- 


35 2  Feudal  Chateaux 

cult  myself.  Besides,  that  was  not  to  be  his 
profession,  and  in  all  matters  pertaining  to  war 
there  was  not  a  more  learned  or  more  skilful 
man  than  he.  H  is  father  taught  him  to  ride,  and 
the  exercises  of  all  kinds  of  arms, — the  sword, 
the  lance,  the  axe,  and  he  taught  himself  to 
wrestle  with  the  boys  of  the  neighbourhood 
and  the  men  of  the  castle,  and  to  box,  not  with 
gloves  as  now,  but  heavily,  as  was  the  manner 
of  those  days ;  and  he  was  prodigious  strong 
and  active  withal,  and  could  run,  jump,  swim, 
and  climb  trees. 

"  But  all  this  personal  prowess  was  as  noth- 
ing compared  with  his  influence  over  the  other 
boys.  He  had  his  father  read  him  the  tactics 
of  those  days,  and  he  would  assemble  the 
boys  in  the  barnyard,  and  for  ever  he  would 
be  drilling  them.  Their  favourite  exploit  was 
to  take  castles,  and  pretending  to  do  this 
they  were  continually  climbing  ladders  up  into 
the  haymows,  and  escalading  the  great  dove- 
cote tower  to  tear  the  pigeons  from  their  nests. 
Every  day  some  of  the  boys  were  carried  home 
with  broken  arms  or  heads,  but  as  Madame 
has  a  son,  she  knows  that  is  the  nature  of  boys, 
and  that  it  is  a  miracle  how  any  of  them  live 
to  grow  up.  .  Bertrand  was  the  most  agile  of 
them  all.  He  could  mount  straight  up  a 


The  War  of  the  Three  Joans      353 

ladder  which  two  of  the  other  boys  would  hold, 
and  balance  himself  at  the  top  like  an  acrobat 
after  they  had  let  go  the  rails. 

"  When  he  was  sixteen  or  seventeen  years 
old  he  longed  for  something  more  than  mere 
play.  There  was  to  be  a  great  tournament 
at  Rennes  in  honour  of  the  wedding  of  the 
same  Jeanne  de  Penthievre  that  you  have 
been  telling  about,  to  Charles  of  Blois,  and 
all  the  noblesse  of  Brittany  would  be  there. 
Bertrand's  father  had  his  armour  furbished 
up,  for  he  intended  to  take  part,  and  Ber- 
trand  begged  to  go  too,  but  his  father  would 
not  suffer  it  and  left  him  locked  in  his  cham- 
ber. Scarcely  had  the  old  knight  ridden 
away  before  Bertrand  was  out  of  his  win- 
dow, clambering  down  the  wall  with  the  help 
of  the  ivy.  But  at  the  stables  a  disappoint- 
ment awaited  him,  for,  as  the  entire  fam- 
ily from  his  mother  down  wished  to  see  the 
tournament,  every  horse  had  been  taken  and 
the  stalls  were  empty.  Only  a  donkey  was 
braying  in  the  paddock.  Houp  la  !  and  there 
was  Bertrand  on  the  donkey,  galloping  away 
at  a  great  rate  to  Rennes." 

But  what  befell  Bertrand  at  the  tournament 
and  afterward  is  a  long  story  which  shall  be 

told  later. 

23 


CHAPTER   IX 

THE   STORY    OF    CHATEAU    JOSSELIN    AND 
TIPHAINE   LA   FEE 


"COR  we  are  coming  now,  Madame,"  said 
Anatole,  "to  the  famous  battlefield  of 
the  Thirty.  There  is  the  monument  ;  Madame 
can  read  the  inscription.  That  was  between 
the  French  and  the  English  a  long  time  ago. 
The  English  were  in  Ploermel,  but  how  they 
got  there  I  am  sure  I  do  not  know.  They 
were  commanded  by  Bembro,  and  the  French 
had  their  headquarters  at  the  chateau  of  Jos- 
selin  ;  and  they  met  half-way  on  this  very  spot, 
thirty  on  each  side,  and  every  man  killed  his 
man,  and  when  the  battle  was  over  there  was 
not  a  soul  left  alive  !  " 

"  Oh,  Anatole  !"  I  protested  ;  "  are  you  sure 
that  it  was  quite  so  sanguinary  as  that  ?  " 

354 


Chateau  Josselin  355 

"  Quite  sure,  Madame.  They  are  all  buried 
under  that  stone.  It  was  removed  during  my 
father's  time  and  the  skulls  counted, — sixty 
skulls,  and  not  one  without  a  hole  in  it." 

"  One  can't  dispute  the  authority  of  an  eye- 
witness, but  I  have  brought  along  Froissart's 
account  of  the  battle.  He  was  of  the  period, 
and  had  the  story  from  a  man  who  took  part 
in  it ;  so  if  you  will  carry  the  lunch  hamper  to 
that  shady  spot,  after  we  have  discussed  the 
cold  chicken  we  will  discuss  the  battle." 

"  Madame  is  very  learned,"  said  Anatole, 
taking  up  the  Froissart  and  looking  at  it  sus- 
piciously. "  I  have  remarked  that  English 
ladies  usually  take  their  libraries  with  them 
when  they  travel ;  but  generally  smaller  books 
than  this,  and  bound  in  red,  always  in  red, — it 
is  so  I  can  always  identify  a  dame  Anglaise" 

"  But  I  am  not  English,  Anatole ;  I  am 
American." 

"  In  that  case,"  said  Anatole,  "  I  would  be 
grateful  if  Madame  would  read  me  what  her 
book  says." 

And  luncheon  being  served,  I  read  to  Ana- 
tole Froissart's  quaint  account  of  the  Battle 
of  the  Thirty : 

"In  1351,  it  happened  on  a  day  that  Sir  Robert  de 
Beaumanoir,  a  valiant  knight  and  commandant  of  the 


356  Feudal  Chateaux 

castle  which  is  called  Castle  Josselin,  came  before  the 
town  and  castle  of  Ploermel,  whereof  the  captain  Brande- 
bourg  [your  Bembro,  Anatole,  and  perhaps  the  Earl  of 
Pembroke]  had  with  him  a  plenty  of  soldiers  of  the 
Countess  of  Montfort.  '  Brandebourg,'  said  Robert, 
'  have  ye  within  there  never  a  man-at-arms,  or  two  or 
three,  who  would  fain  cross  swords  with  other  three  for 
love  of  their  ladies  ? '  Brandebourg  answered  that  their 
ladies  would  not  have  them  lose  their  lives  in  so  miser- 
able an  affair  as  single  combat,  whereby  one  gained  the 
name  of  fool  rather  than  of  honourable  renown.  '  I 
will  tell  you  what  we  will  do  if  it  please  you.  You  shall 
take  twenty  or  thirty  of  your  comrades,  and  I  will  take  as 
many  of  ours.  We  will  go  out  into  a  goodly  field  where 
none  can  hinder  or  vex  us,  and  there  will  we  do  so 
much  that  men  shall  speak  thereof  in  time  to  come  in 
hall,  and  palace,  and  highway,  and  other  places  of  the 
world.'  '  By  my  faith,'  said  Beaumanoir,  '  't  is  bravely 
said,  and  I  agree  ;  be  ye  thirty,  and  we  will  be  thirty 
too.' 

"When  the  day  had  come  they  parleyed  together  all 
the  sixty,  then  they  fell  back  until  one  made  the  sign,  and 
forthwith  they  set  on  and  fought  stoutly  all  in  a  heap, 
and  they  aided  one  another  handsomely  when  they  saw 
their  comrades  in  evil  case.  Pretty  soon,  after  they  had 
come  together,  one  of  the  French  was  slain,  but  the  rest 
did  not  slacken  fight  one  whit,  and  they  bore  themselves 
as  valiantly  all  as  if  they  had  been  Rolands  and  Olivers. 
At  last  they  were  forced  to  stop  and  they  rested  by  com- 
mon accord,  giving  themselves  truce  until  they  should  be 
rested.  They  rebuckled  their  armour  which  had  got  un- 
done, and  dressed  their  wounds.  Four  French  and  two 
English  were  dead  already.  They  rested  long,  and  there 
were  some  who  drank  wine  which  was  brought  them." 


Chateau  Josselin  357 

"  Those  were  the  English,  Madame,"  cried 
Anatole.  "  The  Bretons  had  brought  no  wine 
with  them,  and  their  captain  cried  out  that  he 
was  dying  of  thirst,  and  one  of  his  comrades 
shouted,  '  Drink  thy  blood,  Beaumanoir,'  and 
that  has  been  the  war-cry  of  the  Beaumanoirs 
ever  since.  I  have  often  wondered  whether 
he  advised  that  in  good  earnest  to  allay  his 
friend's  thirst,  or  whether  he  was  scoffing  at 
him  for  crying  like  a  baby  for  drink  ;  and  I  have 
wondered,  too,  whether  such  a  draught  would 
have  been  refreshing,  but  it  has  always  hap- 
pened that  when  I  have  cut  my  ringer  and 
might  have  discovered,  I  had  not  the  least 
thirst  or  desire  to  try  the  beverage." 

"  We  have  got  beyond  cannibalism,  Anatole," 
I  replied ;  "  let  us  hope  that  we  may  some  day 
get  beyond  fighting.  The  chronicle  goes  on 
to  say : 

'  When  they  were  refreshed  the  battle  recommenced 
as  stoutly  as  before  and  lasted  a  long  while.  They  had 
short  swords  of  Bordeaux,  tough  and  sharp,  and  boar 
spears  and  daggers,  and  some  had  axes,  and  therewith 
they  dealt  one  another  marvellously  great  dings.  At  last 
the  English  had  the  worst  of  it  ;  Brandebourg,  their  cap- 
tain, was  slain,  with  eight  of  his  comrades,  and  the  rest 
yielded  themselves  prisoners  when  they  saw  that  they 
could  no  longer  defend  themselves,  for  they  could  not 
and  must  not  fly.  Sir  Robert  de  Beaumanoir  and  his 


358  Feudal  Chateaux 

comrades  who  remained  alive  took  them  and  carried  them 
off  to  Castle  Josselin  as  their  prisoners  ;  and  then  admit- 
ted them  to  ransom  courteously  when  they  were  all  cured, 
for  there  was  none  that  was  not  grievously  wounded, 
French  as  well  as  English.  I  saw  afterwards,  sitting  at 
the  table  of  King  Charles  of  France,  a  Breton  knight 
who  had  been  in  it,  Sir  Yvon  Charuel,  and  he  had  a  face 
so  carved  and  cut  that  he  showed  full  well  how  good  a 
fight  had  been  fought.  The  matter  was  talked  of  in 
many  places,  and  some  set  it  down  as  a  very  poor,  and 
others  as  a  very  swaggering  business.'  " 

"  Madame,"  said  Anatole,  after  a  pause,  "  my 
father  must  have  been  mistaken  in  his  count 
of  those  skulls.  He  was  never  very  good  at 
arithmetic.  It  is  just  possible  that  one  or  two 
of  the  Bretons  escaped,  but  not  one  of  the 
English,  no  not  one. 

"  If  Madame  has  amused  herself  sufficiently 
with  these  worthless  tales,  I  will  continue  the 
perfectly  attested  history  of  Bertrand  du  Gues- 
clin.  Madame  will  remember  that  we  left  him 
outside  the  tournament  at  Rennes.  He  tied 
the  ass  outside  the  lists  and  pressed  in  with  the 
vulgar  where  he  might,  and  saw  the  first  two 
courses  run  with  great  delight.  He  shouted 
with  the  rest  at  each  gallant  stroke,  and  was  in 
despair  that  he  could  not  also  be  among  those 
magnificent  knights,  so  richly  harnessed,  with 
their  arms  emblazoned  on  silken  surcoats 


Chateau  Josselin  359 

which  they  wore  outside  their  armour.  At  the 
end  of  the  second  course  he  saw  that  one  of 
the  knights,  the  Vicomte  de  la  Belliere,  was  so 
greatly  fatigued  that  he  retired  from  the  lists. 
Bertrand  followed  to  his  hotel  and  begged  that 
he  would  lend  him  his  horse  and  his  armour. 
He  might  not  have  been  so  obliging  but  that 
his  daughter  Tiphaine,  called  Tiphaine  la  Fe'e 
(the  fairy),  because  she  was  so  petite  and  knew 
the  language  of  animals  and  birds  and  could 
make  every  one  work  her  will, — was  disarming 
her  father.  Tiphaine  took  a  fancy  to  the  youth. 
" '  Lend  him  your  arms,  dear  father,'  she 
begged,  '  I  am  sure  he  will  not  dishonour  them.' 
And  with  that  she  gave  him  her  favour,  a 
scarf  embroidered  with  birds,  and  ran  back  to 
the  tournament,  and  seated  herself  beside  the 
duchess  to  see  what  would  become  of  it.  The 
challengers  were  of  the  noblest  knights  of 
Brittany,  of  whom  the  Sire  Penhouet,  governor 
of  the  city,  was  the  first.  Bertrand  rode  for- 
ward with  his  lance  raised,  Penhouet  accepted 
the  challenge,  and  the  two  champions  met 
with  so  great  a  shock  that  Penhouet  was  un- 
horsed, and  had  such  a  thump  on  the  back  of 
his  head  that  he  had  no  stomach  for  further 
fighting  that  day.  Then  the  second  of  the 
challengers  presented  himself  to  avenge  the 


360  Feudal  Chateaux 

X 

Governor  of  Rennes,  but  Bertrand  recognising 
his  father  by  his  crest  and  coat  of  arms,  lowered 
his  lance,  made  him  a  profound  bow,  and  de- 
clined the  combat.  All  the  assembly  were 
surprised  at  this,  but  concluded  that  the  fame 
of  the  old  knight,  Du  Guesclin,  was  such  that 
the  stranger  dared  not  engage  with  him,  and 
they  put  forward  a  puny  knight,  Olivier  de 
Mauny,  who  became  afterward  the  inseparable 
companion  of  Bertrand,  though,  in  this  the  be- 
ginning of  their  acquaintance,  Bertrand  handled 
him  most  ungently.  It  was  the  same  story 
with  Guillaume  de  Launoy,  Yves  de  Charuel, 
afterward  one  of  the  Thirty,  the  Sieurs  de  Ker- 
gorlay  and  de  Kaergouet,  and  others  of  the 
noblest  seigneurs  of  Brittany,  to  the  number 
of  fifteen. 

"  At  last,  Guy,  Comte  de  Laval,  took  him  in 
hand,  and  every  one  pitied  Bertrand.  At  the 
first  shock  de  Laval  knocked  Bertrand's  spear 
from  his  hand,  and  a  great  cry  went  up  from 
the  lists.  But  Bertrand  threw  away  his  shield, 
and  with  both  arms  caught  De  Laval  in  such 
an  embrace  as  never  lover  held  his  mistress, 
and  lifting  him  from  the  saddle  flung  him  clean 
over  the  lists  among  the  ladies. 

"  Fichtre,  but  it  was  fine  !  and  you  can  judge 
of  the  admiration  of  the  ladies,  when  they  saw 


Chateau  Josselin  361 

all  their  bravest  knights  thrashed  so  hand- 
somely. The  Duchess,  seeing  that  Bertrand 
wore  the  favour  of  Tiphaine,  asked  her  who 
he  might  be,  but  Tiphaine  was  not  fairy  enough 
to  tell,  for  she  did  not  know.  At  last  Charles 
of  Blois,  feeling  that  enough  of  his  men  had 
been  banged  about,  threw  his  gilded  baton 
into  the  lists  to  end  the  combat,  and  sent 
Robert  de  Beaumanoir,  Marshal  of  Brittany,  to 
bring  this  unknown  knight  to  him,  and  to  bid 
him  discover  himself.  Figure  to  yourself  the 
delight  of  the  old  Du  Guesclin  when  he  saw 
that  it  was  his  ne'er-do-well  son  who  had  that 
day  made  a  name  for  himself.  The  Duchess 
gave  him  the  prize  of  the  tournament,  which 
was  a  great  diamond,  and  this  you  may  guess 
he  presented  on  bended  knee  to  the  demoiselle 
Tiphaine,  asking  only  that  he  might  be  per- 
mitted to  continue  to  wear  her  favour." 

"  Anatole,"  I  said,  "  you  are  a  sly  rogue  ;  you 
have  pretended  to  know  nothing  of  the  history 
of  the  War  of  the  Three  Joans,  and  by  this 
account  of  the  tournament  you  have  shown 
yourself  better  posted  than  I  am  in  the  history 
of  Brittany." 

"  Not  in  history,  Madame ;  that  is  only  for 
the  learned,  but  in  such  little  trifles  as  the  ac- 
curate details  of  all  the  battles  of  this  part  of 


362  Feudal  Chateaux 

Brittany,  of  which  you  read  so  much  nonsense 
in  the  books, — on  these  points  you  may  trust 
me  implicitly." 

I  was  a  listener  after  Anatole's  own  heart, 
and  when  I  besought  him — "  Tell  me  more  of 
Du  Guesclin,  of  his  exploits  after  the  war 
broke  out  and  he  devoted  himself  to  the  cause 
of  Joan  of  Blois" — he  at  once  launched  forth 
on  a  voyage  of  reminiscence  and  imagination. 

"  Ah  !  Madame,  every  castle  in  Brittany  has 
its  own  story  of  him,  for  either  he  held  it,  or 
took  it  at  some  time  with  his  boon  companions. 
Chief  among  these  in  love  for  Bertrand  and  in 
rank  was  Guy  de  Laval,  who,  though  he  had 
married  the  sister  of  De  Montfort,  yet  forgot 
family  ties  and  took  up  arms  against  him,  for 
the  sole  reason  that  he  might  fight  by  the  side 
of  Bertrand  Du  Guesclin. 

"  Bertrand's  chiefest  enemy  was  Sir  Thomas 
de  Kantorbrie,  an  Englishman  of  high  rank, 
who  aided  the  Countess  of  Montfort  in  the 
siege  of  Dinan.  Madame  must  have  heard  of 
him,  and  how  he  traitorously  took  Du  Gues- 
clin's  young  brother  Oliver  prisoner,  when  he 
was  exercising  his  horse  outside  the  city  during 
a  truce.  Bembro  was  commanding  the  English, 
and  Du  Guesclin  went  out  and  complained  to 
him.  It  was  arranged  that  Du  Guesclin  and 


Chateau  Josselin  363 

Kantorbrie  should  fight  for  the  possession  of 
the  person  of  Oliver,  at  single  combat  in  the 
sight  of  both  armies,  in  the  public  place  of 
Dinan,  the  English  being  let  in  simply  to  see 
this  fine  feat  of  arms,  and  swearing  to  go  out 
again  in  an  orderly  manner  when  it  was  over, — 
an  oath  which  they  kept  very  honourably." 

"  Du  Guesclin  won  the  battle,  I  presume?" 

"  Mais  certainement,  that  goes  without  say- 
ing ;  and  when  he  had  pulled  Kantorbrie  off  his 
horse,  on  to  the  ground,  and  torn  his  helmet 
from  his  head,  he  beat  him  in  the  face  with  his 
mailed  hand  until  he  had  spoiled  his  beauty, 
and  he  besought  permission  to  cut  off  his 
head ;  but  this,  unfortunately,  Bembro  would 
not  grant." 

"  That  gentle  feat  of  arms  would  hardly  be 
thought  quite  honourable  in  these  days,"  I 
commented. 

"  True,  Madame,"  Anatole  admitted  ;  "  and 
the  demoiselle  Tiphaine,  who  was  one  of  the 
spectators,  thought  it  a  trifle  too  serious,  and 
she  told  Bertrand  afterward  that  to  beat  a  man 
in  the  face  when  he  was  down  was  use  to  which 
a  knight's  gauntlet  was  not  meant  to  be  put ; 
and  she  gave  him  back  his  diamond,  and  asked 
for  her  favour.  So  there  was  Bertrand  all 
shamed  in  the  midst  of  his  victory.  But  he 


364  Feudal  Chateaux 

took  his  punishment  like  a  man,  and  pulled  off 
his  steel  gauntlet  on  the  instant  and  handed  it 
to  her  with  the  diamond  in  it,  as  a  token  that 
he  would  fight  in  a  gentler  fashion  thereafter. 
"  And  after  that  he  took  many  castles  by 
escalade  and  sometimes  by  stratagem.  Ma- 
dame has  never  heard  of  the  siege  of  Rennes  ? 
Surely  that  was  the  most  laughable  trick  of 
all.  The  garrison  of  the  city  were  nearly  fam- 
ished when  that  villain,  Kantorbrie,  thought  he 
could  induce  them  to  surrender,  in  the  hope  of 
good  food.  So  he  foraged  all  the  country 
hereabouts,  and  collected  all  the  pigs,  herds 
upon  herds  of  them.  Now,  the  pigs  of  Brit- 
tany cannot  be  beaten,  and  those  of  Ploermel 
are  best  of  all.  Kantorbrie  drove  those  pigs 
round  and  round  the  town  of  Rennes,  in  full 
sight  of  its  starving  population.  He  grew  so 
daring  that  he  brought  them  close  to  the  glacis 
of  the  fortifications.  You  may  judge  if  the 
poor  people  felt  their  mouths  water  and  their 
bellies  fail  them  as  they  thought  of  the  delect- 
able pork-pies,  the  juicy  hams,  the  links  of 
sausage,  the  souse  and  the  head-cheese,  and 
pigs'  feet  a  la  vinaigrette,  and  other  delicious 
charcuterie,  which  those  tantalising  porkers 
would  make.  The  Governor,  Penhouet,  was 
wild  with  despair. 


Chateau  Josselin  365 

"  '  Leave  this  to  me,'  said  Du  Guesclin,  who 
was  also  shut  up  in  the  town.  '  Leave  this  to 
me,  and  by  the  same  token  we  shall  dine  so 
toothsomely  that  every  Jew  within  the  gates 
will  turn  Christian  to  be  our  convives'  Now, 
Bertrand  was  as  ignorant  as  Madame  is  at  this 
present  moment  of  how  he  was  to  come  out  of 
this  adventure  but  Tiphaine  had  returned  to 
Rennes,  and  had  just  told  him  to  speak  thus 
to  the  Governor.  I  have  said  that  she  was 
called  Tiphaine  la  Fee,  and  from  what  now 
transpired  the  belief  was  spread  that  she  not 
only  understood  but  could  speak  the  language 
of  all  animals.  However  this  may  be,  she  was 
at  least  fond  of  all  the  creatures  of  the  good 
God,  and  could  imitate  the  sounds  that  they 
make  to  a  nicety. 

"  She  went  with  Bertrand  to  a  postern-gate 
which  gave  upon  the  moat.  This  she  caused 
to  be  half  opened,  and  when  the  herd  of  swine 
arrived  opposite  it  she  made  the  cry  of  a  suck- 
ing pig  when  it  is  very  hungry  or  in  distress. 
And  when  the  porkers  heard  this  squealing, 
every  mother's  and  father's  heart  among  them 
was  stirred,  and  they  fancied  that  they  recog- 
nised the  voice  of  their  own  offspring,  and  in 
spite  of  the  efforts  of  the  distracted  swineherds 
they  plunged  into  the  moat,  swam  across,  and 


366  Feudal  Chateaux 

dashed  through  the  postern  into  the  city. 
Tiphaine  would  have  been  trodden  under  foot 
of  them  but  that  Bertrand  caught  her  up,  set 
her  on  his  shoulder  and  marched  to  the  city 
square, — she  still  squealing  gleefully,  and  thou- 
sands of  pigs  following  in  procession,  so  that 
the  city  streets  could  hardly  hold  them,  and  the 
city  was  well  provisioned. 

"  After  that  Tiphaine  could  no  longer  with- 
stand the  importunities  of  Bertrand,  '  for,'  said 
he,  'you  will  not,  sweetheart,  treat  me  with 
more  despite  than  I  were  a  hog,  since  you  suf- 
fer them  to  follow  you  ? ' 

"  Now,  there  was  another  reason  why 
Tiphaine  took  pity  upon  him,  and  this  was 
because  since  the  scolding  she  had  given  him 
at  Dinan,  he  had  made  war  so  courteously 
that  when  he  appeared  before  a  castle  in 
which  was  the  Countess  of  Montfort,  and  had 
ordered  the  fortress  to  be  bombarded  with 
great  stones,  the  countess  appeared  upon  the 
battlements,  and  each  time  that  a  stone  hit 
them  wiped  the  place  with  her  handkerchief, 
crying  in  scorn,  '  You  are  most  impolite,  Ber- 
trand, thus  to  scatter  dust  on  my  parapets.' 
When  Tiphaine  knew  that  he  had  followed 
out  her  instructions  to  the  point  of  being  so 
made  light  of,  she  acknowledged  that  he  well 


Chateau  Josselin  367 

deserved  her,  and  some  of  Kantorbrie's  porkers 
furnished  forth  their  wedding  feast." 

It  was  some  time  before  the  English  name 
which  had  suggested  Anatole's  distortion,  Kan- 
torbrie,  dawned  upon  my  mind.  "  The  name 
sounds  as  if  it  might  be  Cymric,"  I  said,  much 
puzzled  ;  "  are  you  sure  that  Kantorbrie  was 
not  a  Breton  ?  " 

"  Ah,  no  !  Madame,  he  was  an  Englishman 
and  of  noble  family ;  his  brother  was  an  arch- 
bishop." 

"  I  have  it ! "  I  cried,  "  you  mean  Sir  Thomas 
of  Canterbury." 

"Parfaitement"  said  Anatole,  calmly.  "  That 
is  what  I  have  said  all  along.  Sir  Thoimw* 
de  Kantorbrie." 

We  jogged  into  the  little  bourg  of  Josselin, 
in  the  early  afternoon,  and  caught  our  first 
glimpse  of  the  beautiful  sixteenth  -  century 
chateau  which  the  De  Rohans  reared  on  the 
old  foundations  of  Sir  Oliver  de  Clisson,  from 
the  bridge,  which  is  the  proper  standpoint  from 
which  to  see  its  ornate  dormers  and  glistening 
towers  reflected  in  the  little  river  Oust.  The 
dormers  on  the  side  of  the  court  are  still  more 
beautiful,  carved  with  most  exuberant  fancy, 
the  intricate  foliage  catching  in  its  convolu- 
tions strange  Gothic  animals,  and  displaying  at 


368  Feudal  Chateaux 

intervals  the  heraldic  devices  of  the  De  Clis- 
sons  and  De  Rohans,  with  their  aspiring  motto 
"  AU  plus  ! "  The  peaked  roofs  of  the  towers 
have  for  finials  bristling  girouettes,  or  weather- 
cocks, resembling  a  sheaf  of  spears,  bent  and 
rusty,  surrounding  the  oriflamme  of  France. 

Oliver  de  Clisson  was  only  a  boy,  careering 
madly  about  the  country  with  his  mother  and 
the  Countess  de  Montfort,  at  the  time  that 
the  spears  of  the  Thirty  were  stacked  in  his 
chateau  and  it  was  used  as  a  hospital  for  both 
English  and  French  after  the  battle. 

After  the  war  was  over,  his  allegiance  was 
accepted  by  the  King  of  France,  and  he  was 
confirmed  as  Seigneur  of  Josselin,  which  he 
made  his  home,  occupying  it  from  time  to 
time  during  his  adventurous  career,  and  dying 
here  full  of  honours  and  of  years  in  1409,  hav- 
ing as  faithfully  served  two  kings  of  France, 
Charles  V.  and  Charles  VI.,  as  he  had  enthusi- 
astically fought  against  their  ancestor  Philip 
and  his  nephew,  Charles  of  Blois.  His  ceno- 
taph in  white  marble  and  that  of  his  wife,  Mar- 
guerite de  Rohan,  lie  in  the  castle  chapel.  His 
wife's  feet  rest  on  a  pet  greyhound,  his  upon  a 
lion,  his  great  sword  lies  beside  him,  and  the 
inscription  tells  us  that  here  rest  the  ashes 
of  the  "  Trks  haut  et  tr'es  puissant  seigneur, 


Chateau  Josselin  369 

Monseigneur  Olivier  de  Clisson,  jadis  Conneta- 
ble  de  France. 

"  Madame  must  not  imagine,"  said  Anatole, 
as  we  drove  homeward,  "  that  when  the  War 
of  the  Three  Joans  was  ended,  Du  Guesclin 
retired  to  his  little  chateau  at  Pont  Orson, 
which  had  come  to  him  as  Tiphaine's  dowry, 
and  thereafter  profited  by  her  familiarity  with 
animals  to  keep  a  dairy  farm  On  the  con- 
trary, this  was  but  the  beginning  of  his  career. 

"  After  the  war  was  over  all  the  men-at-arms, 
English,  French,  and  Bretons,  who  had  taken 
part  in  it  were  out  of  business,  and  they  turned 
into  brigands,  organising  themselves  into  com- 
panies and  establishing  themselves  in  castles, 
swooping  down  upon  the  highways  and  carry- 
ing travellers  off  to  their  nests  and  holding 
them  for  ransom.  Not  alone  Brittany,  but  all 
France  was  overrun  by  these  gentry.  To  pro- 
tect each  other  the  chiefs  of  the  different 
robber  bands  met  together  and  organised  the 
Grande  Compagnie.  Their  chief  on  the  part 
of  the  Bretons  was  Le  Begue  de  Villaines,  and 
the  captain  of  the  English  outlaws  was  Hue  de 
Cauerlee.  Madame  has  doubtless  heard  of 
him?" 

For  the  moment  the  name  struck  no  re- 
sponsive chord  in  my  memory.  "  But  assur- 


37°  Feudal  Chateaux 

edly  he  was  such  a  bad  one  that  he  must  be 
among  Madame's  acquaintances."  Turning  to 
my  books  enlightenment  came,  and  I  was  able 
to  identify  Anatole's  Hue  de  Cauerlee  as 
Hugh  de  Calverly. 

"  Parfaitement"  assented  Anatole ;  "  it  is  ex- 
actly as  I  said,  but  he  was  not  so  bad  as  Kan- 
torbrie,  who  also  became  a  bandit,  and  were  it 
not  for  the  exploit  of  the  damsel  Guyonne  de 
Laval,  there  would  be  nothing  more  to  tell  of 
the  magical  power  of  Tiphaine  la  Fee,  or  any 
more  adventures  on  the  part  of  the  illustrious 
Du  Guesclin." 

"  So  you  have  some  more  legends,  Anatole  ? 
Let  me  have  them  by  all  means." 

"  Ah,  Madame,  they  have  nothing  to  do 
with  the  War  of  the  Three  Joans  or  with 
Chateau  Josselin  ;  but  if  Madame  should  care 
to  visit  the  Chateau  de  Laval  and  should  take 
me  as  guide,  I  could  show  you  the  very  dun- 
geon, and  if  it  should  happen  to  be  a  moonlight  • 
night  that  would  be  the  time  and  place  to  tell 
how  Bertrand  delivered  France  of  the  Grand 
Company,  and  other  truthful  tales  not  found 
in  the  histories,  but  well  worth  hearing." 


CHAPTER  X 
GUYONNE   DE   LAVAL 

AND  THE  FURTHER  HISTORY  OF  BERTRAND  AND 
TIPHAINE  LA  FEE 

A  NATOLE   appeared  before  us  at  break- 
•*»•     fast  one  morning  with  the  announcement : 
"  Congratulate   me,    Madame ;    I    have  dis- 
covered the  Forest  of  Brcecilande  ! " 

"And  the  Enchanted  Castle  of  Merlin?" 
"  Alas  !  no,  Madame,  for  either  the  enchant- 
ment, which  Madame  will  remember  rendered 
it  invisible  and  impenetrable,  still  holds,  or  else 
it  all  happened  so  long  ago  that  the  castle  ex- 
ists no  longer.  But  the  forest  is  still  there. 
Madame  said  it  was  to  be  found  in  this  neigh- 
bourhood and  I  have  found  it,  only  it  is  called, 
now,  the  Forest  of  Paimpont.  It  is  much 

371. 


372  Feudal  Chateaux 

changed, — it  has  been  cut  up  and  built  upon, 
but  the  Thicket  of  Refuge  for  persecuted 
beasts — that  is  still  there.  It  was  by  its  magi- 
cal virtue  in  ridding  poor  animals  of  their  tor- 
mentors that  I  discovered  it.  Surely,  there 
was  no  animal  worse  tormented  than  Gregoire 
Trudel's  donkey,  and  Gregoire  himself  was 
the  persecutor.  The  poor  beast  endured  his 
thumps  and  kicks  for  years,  but  at  length  she 
said  to  herself,  '  Tiens  !  one  would  be  as  stupid 
as  the  holy  martyrs  to  suffer  this  any  longer. 
I  will  go  in  search  of  the  Holy  Wood,'  and  she 
ran  away. 

"  Gregoire  went  in  search  of  her,  though  I 
warned  him  it  would  not  be  for  his  good  health. 
He  found  his  donkey  standing  in  a  pool  beside 
the  ruins  of  a  castle,  in  a  little  clearing  of  the 
forest.  He  tried  to  coax  the  intelligent  creat- 
ure to  come  to  him,  but  she  was  too  wise. 
So  he  waded  out  to  her  and  mounted  on  her 
back  ;  but  as  this  pool  was  what  was  left  of  the 
enchanted  fountain,  and  as  Gregoire  was  full 
of  old  cider,  the  donkey  threw  up  her  heels 
and  was  quickly  rid  of  her  pest,  for  he  was 
drowned  very  neatly  in  the  pool,  and  there  we 
found  his  body.  This  happened  only  a  few 
years  ago,  and  it  occurred  to  me  last  night  that 
this  must  surely  be  the  Forest  of  Brcecilande. 


Guyonne  de  Laval  373 

There  are  the  ruins,  too,  of  the  old  castle 
of  Montfort  from  which  Tiphaine  la  Fee  was 
rescued  by  the  fairy  ducks." 

"  How  did  that  happen,  Anatole  ?" 
"Has  Madame  never  heard  ?  And  yet  these 
English  books  of  hers  call  themselves  histories  ! 
This  adventure  befell  Tiphaine  la  Fee  after 
the  king  had  bestowed  upon  her  husband  the 
castles  of  the  Comte  de  Montfort.  Du  Gues- 
clin  had  said  that,  for  his  part,  he  had  no  use 
for  them,  but  his  wife  thought  differently.  She 
was  not  sure  but  that  she  would  prefer  one  of 
them  for  a  residence  to  their  chateau  at  Pont 
Orson,  and  she  had  a  woman's  love  for  house- 
hunting. So  she  mounted  her  white  palfrey 
and,  slenderly  attended,  set  out  for  this  castle, 
for  the  De  Montforts  were  in  another  part  of 
the  country,  and  she  had  no  idea  that  it  was 
occupied.  But,  as  evil  luck  would  have  it, 
Kantorbrie  had  established  himself  here  with 
his  men-at-arms,  as  likely  as  not  with  the  per- 
mission of  De  Montfort,  for  they  were  friends. 
"  When  Tiphaine  approached  the  castle  it 
appeared  deserted,  but  when  she  had  ridden 
across  the  drawbridge  she  heard  the  clang  of 
the  descending  portcullis  behind  her,  and  saw 
the  court  full  of  the  English,  and  knew  that 
she  was  caught  like  a  mouse  in  a  trap.  She 


374  Feudal  Chateaux 

demanded  to  see  the  captain,  and  promised 
that  if  she  were  honourably  treated  her  husband 
would  pay  a  handsome  ransom  for  her  deliver- 
ance. But  when  Kantorbrie  knew  that  the 
wife  of  his  mortal  enemy  was  in  his  power,  the 
expression  of  demoniacal  triumph  upon  his  dis- 
figured countenance  made  it  still  more  hideous. 

" '  Ah  !  Dame,'  he  cried,  '  I  had  not  hoped 
you  would  do  me  the  honour  to  return  my  visit 
so  speedily.  I  shall  be  more  hospitable  than 
you  were  to  me,  and  you  shall  bide  longer  in 
my  castle  than  you  suffered  me  to  rest  in  your 
bower,'  and  he  caused  her  to  be  imprisoned  in 
a  high  turret  jutting  out  over  the  lake. 

"  The  visit  to  which  Kantorbrie  referred  was 
one  which  had  brought  much  derision  upon 
himself,  for,  hearing  that  Tiphaine  had  re- 
proved Bertrand  for  his  savage  treatment  of 
himself  at  the  affair  of  Dinan,  of  which  she 
was  a  witness,  he  flattered  himself  that  he  had 
her  interest.  He  had  pursued  her  with  his 
attentions  even  after  her  marriage,  to  the  point 
of  appearing  beneath  her  window  at  her  cha- 
teau at  Pont  Orson,  prepared  with  a  litter 
borne  by  some  of  his  soldiers  to  carry  her  away 
bon  grt  mal  gr<*.  But  it  so  chanced  that  Ti- 
phaine lay  awake  that  night,  and  hearing  the 
slight  noise  they  made  in  placing  the  ladder 


Guyonne  de  Laval  375 

against  the  wall,  she  looked  out  of  her  window 
and  saw  the  men  holding  the  foot  of  the  lad- 
der and  Kantorbrie  mounting  toward  her. 
There  was  no  human  being  within  call,  for 
they  had  seduced  the  watchman  with  gold. 
Her  first  thought  was  to  call  upon  the  saints ; 
but  when  she  saw  her  herd  of  pet  Alderneys 
quietly  grazing  in  the  moonlight  she  lost  no 
time  on  the  saints,  but  began  to  call  them,  '  Co' 
bos !  Co'  bos  !  I  have  salt  for  you,  salt  for 
you,'  and  the  whole  herd  came  stampeding 
up  to  the  foot  of  the  tower.  When  the  men 
heard  the  galloping  hoofs  they  thought  a  troop 
of  horse  were  charging,  and  took  themselves 
off  in  a  hurry,  sauve  qui  pent,  and  the  beasts 
lumbered  up  against  the  ladder,  and  over- 
turned it,  dumping  Kantorbrie  on  the  ground 
at  the  foot  of  the  tower.  And  there  they 
stood  guard  around  him,  so  that  when  later 
his  men  returned  in  answer  to  his  crying  they 
had  no  small  trouble  to  come  at  him  and  to 
carry  him  away,  all  bruised  and  trampled,  in 
the  very  litter  in  which  he  had  hoped  to  kidnap 
Tiphaine. 

"  You  may  be  sure  that  the  memory  of  this 
adventure  did  not  serve  to  lessen  Kantorbrie's 
satisfaction  at  having  her  safe  in  his  hands 
at  last.  As  Tiphaine  now  looked  from  the 


376  Feudal  Chateaux 

window  of  her  prison  in  Chateau  de  Montfort 
(which  was  so  high  up  that  Kantorbrie  had 
not  thought  it  necessary  to  have  it  barred),  she 
saw  that  the  base  of  the  tower  was  surrounded 
by  the  lake,  and  the  lake  by  the  forest,  and  it 
was  inexpressibly  lonely,  for  there  was  no  liv- 
ing creature  in  sight  except  some  wild  ducks 
that  had  settled  on  the  water. 

"  To  lighten  her  loneliness  she  began  to 
talk  to  them  in  their  language.  The  ducks 
were  so  overjoyed  and  set  up  such  a  loud 
quacking,  '  Crac  !  Crac  !  Crac  ! '  that  the  garri- 
son of  the  castle  thought  that  the  foundation 
of  the  tower  on  the  water  side  was  cracking, 
and  they  all  rushed  p£le-m£le  out  of  the  castle 
and  Kantorbrie  with  them.  They  were  so 
frightened  that  they  rode  away  with  all  their 
might  without  even  thinking  of  their  prisoners. 
But  there  was  Tiphaine  in  almost  as  evil  a 
case  as  at  first,  for  she  was  firmly  locked  in  a 
deserted  castle,  as  were  her  servants,  and  they 
were  all  like  to  die  of  starvation.  They  would 
doubtless  have  done  so  had  not  Tiphaine 
invoked  St.  Nicholas,  who  walked  upon  the 
water,  and  calling  the  ducks  to  witness  that 
she  would  build  a  church  to  him  if  she  was 
saved,  she  jumped  fearlessly  from  the  window 
into  the  lake.  The  ducks,  instead  of  being 


Guyonne  de  Laval  377 

frightened  at  her  descent,  grouped  closely 
together  so  that  they  not  only  broke  her  fall 
as  nicely  as  a  feather  bed,  but  she  did  not  even 
wet  her  stockings,  and  this  makes  me  think 
that  she  must  have  known  the  spell  that  Mer- 
lin taught  Viviane,  of  walking  dry-shod  upon 
water. 

"  She  had  seen,  from  her  window,  the  hasty 
departure  of  Kantorbrie  and  his  men,  so  she 
entered  the  castle,  found  the  key  to  the  dun- 
geon, liberated  the  servants,  and  hurried  home. 

"  After  the  country  was  pacified  she  kept 
her  vow  and  erected  a  chapel  to  St.  Nicholas. 
When  it  was  dedicated  the  ducks  all  appeared, 
waddling  up  the  aisle  in  procession,  just  as  the 
monks  were  chanting  the  '  Adeste  Fideles.' " 

"  When  Kantorbrie  and  his  cutthroats  rode 
away  from  Chateau  de  Montfort  they  pro- 
ceeded to  that  of  Guy  de  Laval.  It  chanced 
that  the  knight  was  not  at  home,  so  Kan- 
torbrie easily  overcame  the  garrison  and  made 
himself  master  of  the  place. 

"  You  must  not  think  that  after  his  first 
fright  at  the  supposed  cracking  of  the  walls  he 
did  not  intend  to  go  back  to  look  for  Tiphaine, 
but  he  thought  it  wise  first  to  establish  himself 
in  a  strong  castle,  and  he  had  hardly  taken 
possession  of  the  chateau  of  Laval  before  it 


378  Feudal  Chateaux 

was  his  fortune  to  trap  Du  Guesclin  in  much 
the  same  way  that  he  secured  Tiphaine  la  Fe"e. 
This  time  there  were  no  friendly  ducks  swim- 
ming under  the  castle  walls,  and  if  they  had 
been  there  they  would  never  have  survived  if 
Bertrand  had  fallen  upon  them.  Bertrand  had 
great  desire  to  meet  Kantorbrie  after  he  es- 
caped him  at  the  battle  of  Auray,  but  if  he 
could  have  had  his  way  he  would  have  planned 
their  meeting  in  a  different  way. 

"  After  the  war  was  over  there  were  many 
men-at-arms,  both  Bretons  and  English,  who 
were  out  of  work  and  who  turned  bandits, 
going  about  pillaging  on  their  own  account ; 
and  that  they  might  do  this  the  better  they  or- 
ganised themselves  into  the  Grand  Company. 
The  king  asked  Bertrand's  advice,  and  Bert- 
rand agreed  to  lead  them  all  into  Spain  and  set 
the  rightful  king  of  that  country,  who  was 
banished,  upon  his  throne  again.  The  king 
replied,  '  Do  what  you  will  with  them,  so  that 
you  rid  France  of  this  pest,'  and  gave  Bertrand 
much  money  to  effect  the  business.  Bertrand 
sent  to  the  Chevalier  Vert,  who  promised  to 
rally  the  captains  of  the  Grand  Company  at  a 
given  time  at  Chateau  de  Laval,  and  promised 
that  Bertrand  might  meet  them  safely  there. 
So  away  rode  Bertrand,  nothing  doubting  but 


Guyonne  de  Laval  379 

that  his  old  friend  Guy  de  Laval  was  master 
in  his  own  chateau,  and  would  receive  him 
hospitably. 

"  What  was  his  surprise,  on  entering  the 
court,  after  he  had  given  up  his  horse  and 
suffered  himself  to  be  disarmed,  to  be  sur- 
rounded and  held  down  by  a  multitude  of 
armed  men,  and  to  be  confronted  by  his  arch- 
enemy, the  villain  Kantorbrie,  who,  though  he 
belonged  to  the  Grand  Company,  and  Bert- 
rand  showed  him  his  safe-conduct  from  the 
Chevalier  Vert,  had  him  treacherously  thrust 
into  the  lowest  dungeon  of  the  castle.  So 
there  was  Bertrand  at  the  mercy  of  his  direst 
foe,  with  no  hope  of  deliverance,  for  though 
the  Grand  Company  would  shortly  assemble, 
he  was  in  no  position  to  treat  with  them.  The 
dungeon  was  vile  and  wet,  his  teeth  chattered 
with  cold,  rats  ran  impudently  over  him,  and 
Kantorbrie  gave  him  neither  food  nor  water. 
He  was  sore  battered,  too,  in  the  tussle  which 
he  had  given  the  men-at-arms  to  overcome  him. 

"  Worst  of  all,  he  was  tormented  in  mind, 
not  so  much  as  to  his  own  future,  but  because 
Kantorbrie  had  told  him,  with  such  malicious 
glee  that  he  could  not  believe  the  news  false, 
that  he  held  Tiphaine  a  prisoner  in  a  tower  of 
the  Chateau  de  Montfort. 


380  Feudal  Chateaux 

"  I  have  said  that  the  dungeon  was  wet,  and 
Madame  will  see  why  it  could  not  be  otherwise, 
for  its  floor  was  below  the  level  of  the  river, 
and  the  drain-pipe  of  the  castle  passing  down 
through  the  dungeon  into  the  river,  the  water 
had  worked  back,  loosened  the  joints  of  the 
pipe,  and  covered  the  floor  to  the  depth  of  a 
foot  with  noisome  filth.  It  was  well  known, 
too,  that  a  dragon,  a  great  water  snake,  was 
accustomed  to  come  up  through  the  pipe  and 
spend  the  night  in  the  dungeon,  and  Kantor- 
brie  hoped,  that  as  Bertrand  was  unarmed  the 
dragon  would  strangle  him  before  morning. 

"  You  can  imagine  Bertrand's  distress ;  and 
that  might  have  been  the  end  of  the  most  illus- 
trious knight  of  Christendom,  but  for  a  little 
slip  of  a  girl,  Guyonne  de  Laval,  niece  of  the 
rightful  lord  of  the  castle,  Guy  de  Laval,  and 
named  Guyonne  after  her  uncle.  She  was 
only  twelve  years  of  age,  and  so  insignificant 
in  appearance  that  Kantorbrie  had  not  thought 
it  worth  while  to  shut  her  up,  and  the  child 
wandered  quite  unnoticed  about  the  castle. 
She  was  amusing  herself  fishing  with  a  rod  and 
line  in  the  castle  moat  when  she  discovered 
Du  Guesclin  behind  the  grating  of  his  dungeon 
window,  and  began  a  conversation  with  him. 
Learning  that  he  was  hungry  and  thirsty,  she 


Guyonne  de  Laval  381 

fastened  a  small  basket  to  the  end  of  her  fish- 
pole  and  provided  him  with  bread  and  wine. 
Seeing  that  there  was  a  small  window  higher 
up  in  the  tower  directly  in  a  line  with  Du 
Guesclin's  window,  she  mounted  thither,  and 
finding  that  it  was  an  empty  grenier,  she 
let  down  with  her  fish-line  a  file,  with 
which  he  could  disembarrass  himself  of  his 
fetters,  and  widen  the  grating  of  his  window 
so  that  he  could  take  in  various  commodities 
which  were  too  heavy  to  pass  across  the  moat. 
The  window  was  too  narrow  to  suffer  Du 
Guesclin  to  escape  even  after  the  bars  were 
removed,  but  the  ingenuity  of  Guyonne  ren- 
dered him  safe  and  even  comfortable.  For 
she  knew  the  habit  of  the  dragon  and  told 
him  what  to  expect,  and  she  lowered  him  a 
battle-axe  so  that  when  the  creature  appeared 
Bertrand  chopped  its  head  off,  leaving  its 
body  to  stop  up  the  pipe.  Guyonne  had  also 
let  down  a  bucket  and  a  mop,  with  which  he 
now  baled  the  water  out  of  his  dungeon,  and 
a  brazier  of  coals,  whereby  he  dried  it,  with  a 
faggot  of  sticks  to  keep  up  the  fire  through 
the  night  and  scare  the  rats  away.  She  also 
sent  him  a  box  of  ointment  for  his  bruises, 
dry  clothing,  a  hauberk  and  helmet,  a  haunch 
of  venison  for  his  supper,  and  a  blanket  for 


382  Feudal  Chateaux 

his  bed.  As  she  let  these  down  under  cover 
of  the  darkness,  she  was  not  observed  by  the 
guards  of  Kantorbrie. 

"  All  that  night  Kantorbrie  revolved  in  his 
mind  what  he  would  do  with  Du  Guesclin  if 
he  found  him  alive  in  the  morning.  If  he  kept 
him  until  noon  the  next  day  he  knew,  by  the 
safe-conduct  that  he  had  seen,  that  the  Grand 
Company  would  arrive ;  but  in  that  case  the 
captive  knight  would  be  no  longer  in  his 
power,  for  he  doubted  not  that  the  captains 
would  admit  him  to  ransom.  Therefore  Kan- 
torbrie resolved  that  he  would  murder  Du 
Guesclin  just  before  noon,  when  he  fancied 
that  he  would  find  his  strength  so  reduced  by 
cold  and  fasting  and  a  wakeful  night  spent  in 
fighting  the  dragon,  that  it  would  be  an  easy 
matter  to  overcome  him.  He  descended  to 
the  dungeon  at  daybreak  to  personally  gloat 
over  his  victim,  attended  by  his  torturers  with 
their  instruments,  intending  to  give  Bertrand 
an  unpleasant  forenoon  before  giving  him  the 
coup  de  grdce. 

"  But  when  they  threw  open  the  dungeon 
door  there  stood  Du  Guesclin  as  strong  and 
lively  as  ever,  with  his  shackles  off,  and  his 
back  against  the  door  which  had  swung  in- 
ward, and,  most  unexpected  and  least  to  be 


FEEDING  A  PRISONER— FROM  AN  OLD  PRINT. 


Guyonne  de  Laval  383 

desired  of  all,  brandishing  a  heavy  axe  as  gayly 
as  if  it  were  a  dandy's  walking-stick.  Figure 
to  yourself  the  disgust  of  Kantorbrie !  He 
sent  in  his  guards  first  to  attack  Du  Guesclin, 
but  the  cell  was  so  small  that  only  two  could 
enter  at  a  time,  and  the  knight  hewed  them 
down  easily,  and  leaping  over  their  bodies  he 
made  for  Kantorbrie,  who  retreated  along  the 
passageway,  calling,  'Ausecours!'  But  Bert- 
rand  caught  up  with  him  at  the  entrance  of 
the  great  hall,  and  after  a  fierce  combat  killed 
him  in  the  presence  of  his  men,  just  as  the 
warden  rushed  in  to  say  that  an  army  was 
approaching.  'These  are  my  friends  whom 
I  expected/  said  Du  Guesclin ;  '  choose  ye 
whether  ye  surrender  to  them  or  to  me.' 

"  Then  the  garrison  fell  upon  their  knees 
crying,  '  We  surrender  to  thee,  valorous  Du 
Guesclin.'  So  he  sent  some  of  the  men  to  dig 
the  graves  for  Kantorbrie  and  the  two  tortur- 
ers, and  he  admitted  the  captains  of  the  Grand 
Company  to  parley.  The  captains  were  struck 
with  admiration  when  they  saw  how  Bertrand, 
a  prisoner,  had  killed  his  captor  in  his  castle, 
and  they  swore  to  follow  him  whithersoever 
he  would  lead  them,  for  he  had  always  had  the 
same  fascination  for  men  that  his  wife  had  for 
dumb  animals. 


384  Feudal  Chateaux 

"  He  assured  himself  of  Tiphaine's  safety 
before  he  went  to  Spain,  and  he  promised 
little  Guyonne  that  he  would  surely  return 
and  be  present  at  her  wedding.  What  he  did 
in  Spain  I  know  not  and  it  is  of  little  conse- 
quence so  far  as  my  story  goes.  It  is  enough 
to  know  that  he  returned  covered  with  glory, 
and  that  the  King  of  Spain,  for  whom  he  had 
fought,  sent  him  two  mules  laden  with  a  service 
of  golden  plate,  and  the  French  King  made 
him  Constable  of  France ;  but  his  faithful  wife, 
Tiphaine  la  Fee,  was  not  to  share  his  triumph, 
for  she  died  immediately  after  his  return. 

"  They  say  that  she  received  the  most 
remarkable  funeral  ever  given  to  a  Breton 
woman,  for  not  only  was  it  attended  by  all  the 
knights,  her  husband's  friends,  but  all  the  dumb 
creatures  for  miles  around, — the  sheep  grazing 
in  the  fields,  the  cattle  in  the  barnyards,  and 
the  wild  animals  from  the  woods  left  their 
haunts  and  joined  in  the  procession,  while  the 
birds  flew  overhead  in  long  straight  lines,  as 
when  they  migrate,  filling  the  air  with  their 
doleful  cries." 

Could  I  dispute  the  story  when  the  heart  of 
the  Breton  is  so  reverent  and  loving  in  its 
trust  in  these  wonders  ? 

Surely    Tiphaine's   influence    over    animals 


Guyonne  de  Laval  385 

and  birds  was  not  more  magical  than  the  refin- 
ing power  which  she  exercised  over  the  some- 
what brutal  nature  of  her  great  husband.  He 
mourned  her  sincerely,  and  when  war  broke 
out  again  with  the  English,  Du  Guesclin  threw 
himself  into  it  with  avidity,  this  time  not  at 
the  head  of  a  band  of  outlaws  and  brigands, 
but  Commander-in-Chief  of  the  Armies  of 
France,  and  followed  by  all  its  noblest  seign- 
eurs, with  the  son  of  his  former  commander, 
Charles  of  Blois,  and  his  old  antagonists  De 
Clisson  and  De  Montfort,  proud  to  call  him 
their  general. 

Anatole  only  repeated  the  popular  tradition 
when  he  added  that  in  an  interval  between 
Du  Guesclin's  victory  in  Brittany  and  the 
campaign  that  followed  in  the  south  of  France 
there  was  a  grand  festival  at  the  chateau  of 
Guy  de  Laval,  for  it  was  the  wedding  of 
Guyonne  de  Laval,  now  grown  a  beautiful 
woman,  and  the  king  himself  attended  and 
all  the  chivalry  of  France.  Joan,  widow  of 
Charles  of  Blois,  leaned  on  the  arm  of  her 
old  foe,  De  Clisson,  for  her  son  had  mar- 
ried De  Clisson's  daughter  Margot.  Other 
feuds  had  been  healed,  and  later  a  daughter  of 
the  house  of  Laval  was  to  marry  a  De  Montfort, 
though  it  is  hardly  possible  that  the  three  Joans 


386  Feudal  Chateaux 

actually  met  at  this  wedding.  Du  Guesclin 
redeemed  his  promise  made  to  little  Guyonne 
so  long  ago,  and  honoured  the  occasion.  His 
golden  service,  the  gift  of  Henry  of  Trastamare, 
was  displayed  upon  the  festal  board, 

"  At  Bertrand's  plate  gazed  every  eye, 
So  massive,  chased  so  gloriously." 

But  the  knights  did  not  gaze  upon  it  with  envy, 
for  their  commander  delighted  to  lavish  upon 
them  all  the  benefits  which  he  received,  and  on 
this  occasion  his  magnificent  golden  service  was 
broken  up  and  dispersed,  each  guest  receiving 
as  a  souvenir  of  the  feast  the  plate  upon  which 
he  ate.  It  was  with  the  bride's  consent  that 
the  service  was  scattered  so  munificently,  for 
it  had  first  been  offered  to  her.  The  Lavals 
were  better  provided  with  silver  plate  than 
any  family  in  Brittany,  for  Beatrix  of  Flanders 
had  brought  great  store  of  it  with  her  when 
she  married  Guy  IX.  Moreover,  Kantorbrie's 
golden  cup,  beautifully  wrought  and  enriched 
with  jewels,  had  been  left  in  the  chateau  and 
was  given  Guyonne  by  her  uncle.  But  what 
were  wedding-gifts  of  royal  gold  to  her,  com- 
pared to  her  wish  that  all  should  worship  her 
husband  as  she  did,  for  though  the  bridegroom's 
hair  was  streaked  with  grey  the  bride  looked 


Guyonne  de  Laval  387 

upon  her  husband  with  love  as  well  as  pride, 
for  he  was  not  only  the  most  illustrious  general 
in  the  world,  but  her  true  captive  knight  whose 
life  she  had  saved  in  this  very  chateau,  and 
each  wedding-guest  drank  a  deep  draught  from 
Kantorbrie's  jewelled  cup  as  it  was  swung  to 
him  by  the  bride,  at  the  end  of  a  silver  fish-pole, 
as  he  toasted  Guyonne  and  her  bridegroom, 
Bertrand  du  Guesclin. 


Anatole's  story  ended  here.  Du  Guesclin's 
life  thereafter  is  French  history.  He  left  his 
bride  almost  immediately  for  the  campaign  in 
the  south  of  France.  We  all  know  how  he 
died  before  Chateauneuf-Randon  on  the  morn- 
ing that  the  castle  was  to  be  given  up  to  him. 

An  ancient  chronicler  quoted  by  Guizot  says  : 

"At  the  decease  of  Sir  Bertrand  a  great  cry  arose 
throughout  the  host  of  the  French.  The  French  Mar- 
shal, Louis  de  Sancerre,  said  to  the  English,  '  Friends, 
you  have  your  agreements  with  Sir  Bertrand  and  you 
shall  fulfil  them  to  him.' 

"  '  God  the  Lord  ! '  said  the  captain,  '  you  know  well 
that  Sir  Bertrand,  who  was  so  much  worth,  is  dead  ; 
how,  then,  should  we  surrender  to  him  this  castle  ? ' 

"Needs  no  parley  hereupon,'  said  the  marshal,  'but 
do  it  at  once,  for  if  you  put  forth  more  words  short  will 
be  the  life  of  your  hostages.' 

"Well  did   the  English  see  that  they  could   not   do 


388  Feudal  Chateaux 

otherwise,  so  they  went  forth,  all  of  them,  from  the  castle, 
their  captain  in  front  of  them,  and  came  to  the  marshal, 
who  led  them  to  the  hostel  where  lay  Sir  Bertrand,  and 
made  them  give  up  the  keys  and  place  them  on  his  bier, 
sobbing  the  while  :  '  Let  all  know  that  there  was  there 
nor  knight  nor  squire,  French  or  English,  who  showed 
not  great  mourning. ' ' 

The  body  of  Du  Guesclin  was  interred  in 
the  abbey  of  St.  Denis,  near  the  tomb  which 
Charles  V.  prepared  for  himself,  and  a  poet  of 
the  time  wrote  of  his  funeral : 

"  The  tears  of  princes  fell 

What  time  the  bishop  said, 
Sir  Bertrand  loved  ye  well  ; 

Weep,  warriors,  for  the  dead  ! 
The  knell  of  sorrow  tolls 

For  deeds  that  were  so  bright ; 
God  save  all  Christian  souls, 

And  his — the  gallant  knight." 

Oliver  de  Clisson  succeeded  him  in  the  office 
of  constable.  He  became  too  powerful  for 
Jean  de  Montfort  to  regard  him  without  un- 
easiness, for  he  feared  De  Clisson's  next  step 
in  greatness  would  be  the  dukedom  of  Brittany. 
He  treacherously  invited  De  Clisson  to  visit 
him,  which  he  did  in  company  with  Guy  de 
Laval.  De  Clisson  was  shown  into  the  donjon 
and  the  door  closed  upon  him  ;  Guy  de  Laval, 
who  followed,  seeing  that  his  friend  was  trapped, 


Guyonne  de  Laval  389 

rushed  to  De  Montfort  and  demanded  what  he 
was  going  to  do  with  De  Clisson. 

"  He  has  been  very  active  of  late,"  said  De 
Montfort  significantly  ;  "  it  is  time  he  rested, — 
he  shall  sleep  well  to-night." 

Guy  de  Laval  flew  into  a  rage  and  demanded 
his  release. 

"  Your  horse  is  at  the  gate,"  replied  De 
Montfort ;  "  you  would  better  leave  while  you 
can."' 

Laval  saw  that  he  was  powerless,  and  rode 
away  in  hot  haste  for  help.  De  Montfort  had 
given  orders  that  De  Clisson  should  be  sewn 
up  in  a  sack  and  thrown  into  the  river  ;  but 
he  was  not  without  conscience  and  passed  a 
horrible  night.  In  the  morning  he  sent  for  his 
seneschal  and  asked  whether  his  orders  had 
been  obeyed. 

"  To  the  letter,"  replied  the  servant.  "  I  put 
him  in  the  sack  myself,  and  when  I  last  saw 
him  he  was  in  the  middle  of  the  river."  De 
Montfort's  remorse  broke  forth  violently.  "  I 
expected  this,"  replied  the  seneschal,  "  so  I 
made  a  surcoat  of  the  sack  with  openings  for 
head,  arms,  and  legs.  It  in  no  way  impeded 
the  action  of  the  Constable,  and  as  the  part  of 
the  river  in  which  I  placed  him  was  the  ford 
hardly  a  span  deep,  and  he  happened  to  be 


39°  Feudal  Chateaux 

mounted  on  his  good  horse,  I  doubt  not  ere 
this  he  has  joined  Guy  de  Laval." 

I  was  interested  to  discover  in  the  family 
records  of  the  Lavals  that  the  friend  of  Du 

Guesclin  was  surnamed  "  La  Croix  de " 

from  his  favorite  oath,  "  By  the  Cross  of 
Christ."  He  was  a  good  Christian,  though  a 
heavy  swearer,  and  he  said,  in  dying, — for  he 
knew  no  other  prayer, — "  Biau  Sire  Dieu  en 
qui  je  crois"  His  son  Guy  married  his  cousin 
Guyonne,  the  widow  of  Du  Guesclin. 

I  had  been  somewhat  puzzled  by  the  repe- 
tition of  the  name  Guy  in  the  Laval  family 
until  reading  the  explanation  given  by  the 
same  records.  A  very  early  ancestor  had  per- 
formed such  wonders  in  the  first  crusade  that 
the  Pope  ordained  that  thenceforth  there 
should  never  lack  a  Guy  de  Laval  in  any 
generation. 

The  oldest  son  was  always  christened  Guy, 
and  when  male  issue  failed,  the  Pope  ingeni- 
ously ordered  that  the  King  should  choose  a 
husband  for  the  heiress  of  the  Lavals  from 
some  noble  family  in  France,  and  that,  on  his 
wedding,  he  should  give  up  his  own  name  and 
be  known  thenceforth  as  Guy  de  Laval.  The 
last  of  the  name,  Guy  de  Laval  the  XXVI. 
gave  up  his  life  in  the  Revolution,  and  the 


Guyonne  de  Laval  391 

family  is  now  extinct.  The  traveller  who  vis- 
its the  old  chateau  is  still  shown  the  dungeon 
to  which,  until  recently,  the  entire  population 
of  the  town  resorted  in  procession  on  Ascen- 
sion Day  "  pour  fouetter  le  dragon  "  (to  beat 
the  dragon).  The  chateau  is  now  used  as  a 
prison  and  is  even  more  sinister  in  appear- 
ance than  in  the  lifetime  of  our  heroes. 

At  the  abbey  of  Clermont,  near  by, — that 
graceful  abbey  of  which  Pierre  Lescot  was 
"Abbe  Commendataire,"  and  which  he  enriched 
with  his  beautiful  work, —  may  still  be  seen 
the  carved  effigies  of  many  a  Guy  de  Laval 
and  his  dame,  and  among  these  you  may  find 
the  placid  features  and  piously  folded  hands 
of  little  Guyonne. 

INTERLUDE 

While  we  lingered  at  Ploermel,  Louis  Rondel  unex- 
pectedly joined  us. 

He  told  us  that  the  research  of  the  Vicomte  La  Joyeuse 
had  developed  the  fact  that  Marie  Courtois's  supposed 
child  had  not  been  drowned  in  the  Loire  as  had  been 
threatened,  but  had  disappeared  with  his  mother.  Search 
was  being  made  for  some  trace  of  his  after  history,  for  it 
was  possible  that  he  had  left  descendants  and  that  the 
real  Vicomte  La  Joyeuse  might  be  discovered  in  humble 
life.  This  revelation  had  removed  the  obstacle  of  in- 
equality of  rank  and  Yseult  and  he  had  been  formally 
betrothed. 


392  Feudal  Chateaux 

"  Why,  then,"  we  asked,  "  do  you  seem  so  unhappy  ?  " 

"  Because,"  the  young  architect  replied,  passionately, 
"  I  feel  like  a  thief  and  a  murderer.  Our  happiness 
would  not  have  been  effected  except  by  this  terrible 
change  which  has  robbed  the  Vicomte  of  all  that 
made  up  his  life.  I  do  not  believe  that  he  can  survive 
the  final  renunciation  of  the  chateau.  Yseult  is  in  de- 
spair, and  we  both  feel  ourselves  criminals,  though  we 
are  not  responsible  for  the  turn  affairs  have  taken.  She 
cannot  forget  that  I  am  the  instrument  of  her  father's 
suffering,  and  when  he  dies  her  morbid  conscientiousness 
will  make  her  look  upon  her  love  for  me  as  a  mortal  sin. 
I  am  at  once  the  most  blessed  and  the  most  wretched  of 
men." 

"  I  wish  I  could  think  of  some  way  out  of  the  diffi- 
culty," I  said,  fatuously.  "  Have  the  detectives,  who 
are  searching  for  the  descendants  of  the  nurse  who 
changed  the  children,  no  clue  ?  " 

"  No;  and  even  if  they  should  find  that  the  real  heir 
died  childless,  it  would  still  leave  Yseult' s  father  the 
descendant  of  Marie  Courtois." 

We  were  driving  in  the  vicinity  of  Ploermel,  and  in  the 
absorption  of  our  conversation  had  forgotten  that  Ana- 
tole  had  ears.  He  turned  on  the  driver's  box  and  asked: 

"  Pardon,  monsieur,  did  I  understand  the  name  of 
Courtois  ?  That  interests  me,  you  understand,  for  it  was 
my  mother's  maiden  name.  I  remember  my  grand- 
father, Jean  Courtois,  distinctly,  and  my  mother  can  tell 
you  all  about  the  family.  They  lived  near  Chateau  La 
Joyeuse  years  ago,  but  emigrated  during  the  Terror. 
My  grandfather  was  too  young  at  the  time  to  remember 
his  early  home  or  to  care  for  it;  but  my  mother  was  in- 
terested in  the  place  from  tales  that  her  grandmother 
used  to  tell,  and  so  after  my  grandmother  died  we  went 


LAVAL- EXTERIOR  VIEW. 


Guyonne  de  Laval  393 

there,  and  my  mother  was  a  servant  for  a  time  in  the 
chateau.  That  was  where  I  first  met  Finette.  I  was 
always  following  her.  The  Vicomte  caught  me  kissing 
her  one  day,  and  told  me  to  leave  the  chateau.  My 
mother  is  a  proud-spirited  woman,  and  there  were  words 
between  them.  I  remember  she  said  that  there  might 
come  a  time  when  it  could  be  proved  that  I  had  as  good 
a  right  to  stay  there  as  he.  They  were  inconsiderate 
words,  spoken  in  a  moment  of  rage;  they  meant  nothing, 
and  my  mother  bitterly  repented  them  and  begged  the 
Vicomte's  pardon;  but  they  had  been  spoken,  and  he 
sent  us  both  packing.  We  went  to  Angers,  where  my 
sister  married  a  guardian  of  the  castle,  and  where  my 
mother  keeps  a  chocolate  shop.  I  had  a  chance  to 
take  a  situation  in  this  inn,  where  I  have  prospered,  as 
Madame  sees,  until  now,  as  its  proprietor,  I  have  arrived 
at  the  summit  of  my  ambition;  for  in  the  fall  Finette 
has  promised  to  marry  me,  and  I  see  nothing  left  to  desire 
in  life." 

Louis  Rondel  and  I  looked  at  each  other  in  conster- 
nation. Was  it  possible  that  Anatole,  the  good-natured, 
contented  lout,  was  the  real  Vicomte  La  Joyeuse  ? 
Could  life  furnish  such  irony  ? 

Ze"phyre  made  her  promised  visit  to  her  son  that  even- 
ing. She  had  come  to  superintend  the  alterations  and 
furnishings  which  were  to  prepare  the  little  inn  for  the 
reception  of  Finette. 

"  She  should  have  been  named  Avalanche  instead  of 
Zephyre,"  said  my  husband  as  he  watched  Anatole  driv- 
ing perilously  from  the  station, his  little  pony-cart  lurching 
frightfully  to  one  side  under  the  weight  of  his  ponderous 
mother. 

We  had  each  of  us  such  a  dread  of  aiding  in  the  un- 
welcome discovery  that  seemed  hanging  over  us,  that 


394  Feudal  Chateaux 

no  one  was  willing  to  tell  her  of  the  state  of  affairs  at 
Chateau  La  Joyeuse.  "  Fancy  my  leading  these  vulgar 
and  stupid  people  to  the  Vicomte,"  said  Louis  Rondel, 
"and  explaining  that  I  have  brought  them  to  dispossess 
him!  I  decline  to  say  another  word.  If  Anatole  has 
not  the  intelligence  to  comprehend  his  opportunity  from 
what  I  was  so  unfortunate  as  to  say  in  his  hearing,  I  shall 
not  enlighten  him." 

"  Anatole  seems  to  me  a  good  fellow,"  I  said,  weakly; 
"  so  far  as  opportunities  have  been  given  him  he  has  im- 
proved them." 

"  He  has  improved  the  education  of  a  hostler  until  he 
is  a  tolerable  whip,  and  your  encouragement,  to  talk  us 
all  out  of  our  senses." 

"  Some  of  the  titled  members  of  the  Jockey  Club  can- 
not equal  him  in  either  accomplishment." 

"  Do  not  exasperate  me,"  Rondel  retorted.  "Both 
he  and  his  mother  are  human  carrots,  made  to  grovel  in 
the  mud,  without  aspiration  to  lift  themselves  to  higher 
things,  because  they  are  absorbed  in  their  little,  barren 
lives,  with  no  delicacy  or  elevation  of  soul  or  the  imagin- 
ation necessary  to  commit  a  crime." 

But  neither  Anatole  nor  his  mother  were  so  stupid  as 
they  seemed.  Possibly  Finette  had  written  from  the 
chateau,  for  one  day  the  little  balcony  on  which  we  were 
sitting  trembled  under  the  elephantine  tread  of  Ze"phyre. 

"  Pardon,  Messieurs  et  Dame,"  she  said  in  a  perfectly 
respectful  but  ominously  insistent  way,  "  but  I  have  here 
a  paper  which  I  would  be  grateful  if  you  would  take  the 
pains  to  regard." 

It  was  a  yellowed  document  folded  like  an  old  letter, 
and  sealed  without  an  envelope. 

We  looked  at  each  other  in  dismay,  and  Louis  Rondel 
rose,  muttering  that  it  was  no  affair  of  his,  and  he  had  a 


Guyonne  de  Laval  395 

pressing  engagement  at  the  railway  station,  as  he  had 
decided  to  take  the  next  train  for  Paris.  But  Ze"phyre 
completely  blocked  the  way. 

"  The  next  train,  Monsieur,  does  not  leave  until  to- 
morrow morning,"  she  said,  calmly,  and  Rondel  sat  down 
hopelessly.  Ze"phyre  also  sat,  a  familiarity  which  seemed 
to  me  portentous. 

"  I  come  to  you,  Messieurs  et  Madame,  for  information. 
I  am  told  that  there  is  some  flaw  in  the  succession  of 
Monsieur  le  Vicomte  de  la  Joyeuse  to  his  estates  and  to 
his  title." 

"Such,  unfortunately,  is  the  case,"  replied  my  hus- 
band. 

"Unfortunately?  but  certainly  —  for  the  Vicomte. 
But  for  those  others, — the  descendants  of  Marie  Courtois, 
— am  I  right  in  my  information  that  they  are  the  real 
heirs?" 

"  Not  at  all,"  Rondel  replied,  eagerly,  "  but  the  de- 
scendants of  the  supposed  child  of  Marie  Courtois,  the 
child  which  she  fled  with,  who  was  not  her  child  at  all, 
but  the  son  of  the  old  Vicomte." 

"  Indeed,  Monsieur,  it  has  then  been  proved  incontest- 
ably  that  this  supposed  child  of  Marie  Courtois's  was  a 
La  Joyeuse  ?  " 

"  So  it  seems,"  Rondel  admitted,  grudgingly.  "  But 
anyone  who  attempts  to  prove  his  descent  from  that  in- 
fant will  find  his  task  a  difficult  one.  He  will  have  to 
prove  every  link  in  the  chain." 

"  But  having  done  so  to  the  satisfaction  of  Messieurs 
the  lawyers,  he  will  then  become  the  real  Vicomte  La 
Joyeuse  and  be  given  the  chateau  ?  " 

Rondel  did  not  answer;  his  heart  was  too  full  of  rage. 

"  You  need  not  reply,  Monsieur;  I  have  the  intelligence 
to  fallow  the  chain  of  reasoning.  Eh,  bien!  the  proof 


396  Feudal  Chateaux 

is  very  simple.  And  the  Vicomtesse — behold  her — it  is 
myself,  and  Anatole  is  the  legal  Vicomte.  What  do  you 
say  to  that,  Messieurs  et  Madame  ?  " 

"  That  it  is  atrocious,  impossible!  " 

"  N'est-cepas  ?  Nevertheless  that  infant,  '  the  supposed 
son  of  Marie  Courtois,'  was  my  father.  I  have  all  the 
proofs.  And  you  say  that  we  have  only  to  show  these 
for  Anatole  to  take  possession  of  the  castle  and  for  me  to 
ride  in  the  landau  of  Madame  la  Vicomtesse  ?  " 

"  Impossible  !  "  Rondel  growled  again. 

"  Doubtless,  Monsieur,  the  landau  is  old;  it  would  re- 
monstrate, it  would  break  down;  but' it  would  be  possible 
to  have  a  new  one  made,  which  would  be  stronger  and 
would  not  have  the  prejudices  of  the  rickety  old  carriage. 
But  pardon,  I  joke  no  more.  You  will  possibly  respect 
my  intentions  more  when  you  have  read  this  document," 
and  she  laid  the  folded  paper  on  the  little  iron  tripod 
table.  "  It  is  the  dying  confession  of  my  grandmother, 
Marie  Courtois,  written  out  by  the  cur£  who  attended  her 
in  her  last  moments." 

"  I  see  that  it  is  dated  1820,"  I  said,  feebly.  "  If  the 
old  lady  died  so  long  ago,  and  the  paper  has  not  been 
opened  since,  I  hardly  know  what  right  we  have  to  pry 
into  the  sins  or  secrets  of  her  life." 

"  Only,  Madame,  so  far  as  this  confession  may  set 
things  right  that  are  going  wrong  and  affect  people  living 
now." 

"  Even  so,"  said  my  husband,  "  I  do  not  think  that 
we  strangers  have  the  right  to  break  the  seal.  You 
would  better  take  it  to  your  father  confessor  and  let 
him  judge  whether  it  has  any  bearing  on  the  affairs  of 
the  present  century." 

"  I  know  that  it  has,  Monsieur,  for  my  father,  who 
heard  the  paper  read  at  his  mother's  death-bed,  told  me 


Guyonne  de  Laval  39? 

its  contents  when  he  died,  and  bade  me  carry  it  to  the 
Vicomte  la  Joyeuse,  for  it  concerned  him  nearly." 

"  Why  did  you  not  do  as  your  father  told  you  ?  " 

"  I  took  it  to  the  chateau,  Monsieur,  and  was  always 
on  the  point  of  giving  it  to  the  Vicomte,  but  he  is  a  proud 
man  and  not  easy  to  speak  to  on  such  a  matter,  and  so, 
when  I  found  that  he  knew  nothing  whatever  about  it,  I 
decided  that  it  was  best  to  let  things  rest  as  they  were, 
especially  as  no  good  was  to  be  gained  by  publishing 
abroad  my  grandmother's  sin." 

We  were  all  thunderstruck,  and  gazed  at  Z6phyre 
hardly  crediting  our  senses.  Surely  the  woman's  soul 
must  be  constructed  on  a  scale  proportionate  to  her  body 
if  she  were  able  so  simply  to  give  up  wealth,  rank,  and 
opportunities,  the  possibility  of  whose  loss  had  broken 
the  Vicomte's  heart. 

None  of  us  could  speak  for  the  moment,  but  Louis 
Rondel  rose  and  took  off  his  hat. 

"  What  do  you  intend  to  do  with  this  paper  now  ?  "  I 
asked,  when  I  could  collect  my  senses. 

"  Why,  now — things  are  different.  I  hear  that  the 
Vicomte  is  distressed  by  a  scandal  that  my  grandmother 
sent  her  own  child  to  the  chateau  and  carried  off  his 
ancestor,  and  since  affairs  have  reached  that  pass,  I 
think  it  is  time  that  my  grandmother  came  forward  and 
denied  the  charge." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  Did  she  not  change  the  child- 
ren ?  " 

"  But  no,  Madame.  How  could  anyone  have  been  so 
depraved  as  that  ?  Not  a  Courtois  at  any  rate.  She  was 
a  sinful  woman,  but  not  so  vile  as  that." 

"  What,  then,  was  the  sin  that  she  confesses  here  ?  " 

"  That  she  lied,  Madame.  It  was  the  only  lie  of  her 
life,  and  it  was  told  from  a  good  impulse ;  but  she  fore- 


398  Feudal  Chateaux 

saw  how  it  might  make  trouble,  as  at  last  it  has,  and  it 
lay  heavily  on  her  conscience  when  she  came  to  die. 
When  those  wretches  were  burning  the  castle  and  she 
thought  that  the  child  of  the  Vicomte,  whom  she  had 
nursed  at  her  breast  along  with  her  own  child,  and  loved 
almost  as  much,  might  be  roasted  alive  in  the  flames,  she 
dashed  up  the  burning  staircase  and  strove  to  rescue 
him ;  but  she  was  caught  and  held  by  the  sentry. 

"  She  knew  that  it  would  be  nothing  to  him  if  the  child 
of  an  aristocrat  should  perish,  and  so  she  told  the  lie  that 
weighed  upon  her  soul  ever  afterwards.  She  told  him 
that  it  was  her  own  child  whom  she  was  trying  to  save, 
and  she  tried  to  soften  his  heart  by  the  sight  of  her 
mother-agony  so  that  he  would  let  her  take  away  this 
little  one,  this  child  of  the  people.  But  it  was  too  late, 
the  staircase  was  consumed,  and  the  sentry  was  hard  of 
heart.  She  learned  afterward  that  the  lie  was  not  needed, 
for  all  of  the  family  had  escaped  before  the  firing  of  the 
castle.  She  had  quick  work  to  get  out  of  the  village  with 
her  own  child  before  he  would  be  killed  by  the  men  who 
believed  him  to  be  the  heir. 

"  She  hid  herself  and  her  boy  at  Angers,  and  she  never 
returned  to  La  Joyeuse,  nor  would  my  father,  though  he 
often  said  that  the  Vicomte  ought  to  have  that  paper. ' ' 

Louis  Rondel  drew  a  long  breath  and  wiped  the  per- 
spiration from  his  forehead. 

"  You  understand  fully,"  he  said,  "  that  in  divulging 
your  grandmother's  confession  you  perform,  as  she  did 
in  making  it,  an  act  of  renunciation,  giving  up  freely  all 
benefits  which  might  accrue  to  you  from  letting  things 
take  their  present  course  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  Monsieur;  since  that  course  is  not  the  true 
one,  since  we  have  no  right  to  any  of  these  things." 

"  Then  I  agree  with  you,  Madame  Z^phyre,  that  the 


Guyonne  de  Laval 


399 


time  has  come  you  and  for  your  grandmother  to  speak. 
Will  you  accompany  me  to  Chateau  La  Joyeuse  ?  " 

"  When  you  will,  Monsieur." 

"  We  can  arrive  more  quickly  by  driving  across  the 
country  than  by  leaving  on  to-morrow's  train  and  chang- 
ing cars  at  Rennes.  We  will  ask  Anatole  to  get  us  the 
best  span  of  horses  in  Ploermel, — his  pony  will  not  an- 
swer for  this  occasion." 

"  But,  Rondel,"  said  my  husband,  "  do  you  realise 
that  this  puts  everything  back  exactly  where  it  was  ?  " 

"  Precisely;  and  Yseult's  father  is  still  the  Vicomte  La 
Joyeuse.  We  will  break  it  to  him  gently,  and  his  life  is 
saved." 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  SECRET  CHAMBER 

"O  murs  !  o  creneaux  !  o  tourelles  ! 
Remparts  !  fosses  aux  ponts  mouvants 

le  beffroi  des  alarmes 

La  cour  oti  sonnaient  les  clairons  ; 
La  salle  oil,  deposant  leurs  armes, 
Se  rassemblaient  les  hauts  barons." 

I 
THE   ANCIENT  CASTLE  OF  COUCY 

IF  Angers  is  the  mother  castle  of  the  chdteaux- 
forts  of  France,  the  great  donjon  tower  of 
Coucy  looks  the  grandsire  of  them  all.  None 
of  the  huge  towers  of  Angers  or  of  any  of 
the  fortresses  of  Europe  can  rival  its  stupend- 
ous bulk,  and,  as  it  is  in  ruins,  it  appears 
far  more  venerable  than  older  castles  which 

400 


•  The  Secret  Chamber  401 

have  been  kept  in  a  better  state  of  preserva- 
tion. It  is  in  every  way  the  most  remarkable 
castle  in  the  north  of  France,  unless  we  except 
Pierrefonds,  for  which  it  served  as  a  model 
and  with  whose  history  it  is  intimately  con- 
nected. 

Standing  on  a  sightly  eminence  the  ruin 
dominates  the  surrounding  country,  and  its 
Titanic  round  tower,  which  the  engineers  of 
Mazarin  could  shatter  but  could  not  demol- 
ish, is  the  ideal  representative  of  the  bar- 
baric strength  and  brutality  of  the  ruder  and 
earlier  portion  of  the  Middle  Ages.  Viollet- 
le-Duc,  who  made  this  castle  a  special  study, 
says  of  it :  "  We  counsel  those  who  love  to  live 
sometimes  in  the  past  to  visit  the  donjon  of 
Coucy,  for  nothing  so  well  paints  feudalism  in 
its  power  and  its  warlike  life  as  this  admirable 
ruin."  In  his  Dictionnaire  de  /'  Architecture 
Franpaise,  he  assures  us  that  its  stupendous 
donjon-keep  is  the  finest  specimen  in  Europe 
of  mediaeval  military  architecture  ;  "  compared 
with  this  giant  the  largest  towers  known 
appear  mere  spindles,"  for  the  tower  is  one 
hundred  feet  in  diameter,  and  the  walls  in 
some  places  thirty-four  feet  thick.  This  huge 
width  has  the  effect  from  a  distance  of  lessen- 
ing our  appreciation  of  its  height  (180  feet), 


402  Feudal  Chateaux 

which  in  a  tower  of  ordinary  diameter  would 
strike  one  as  remarkable.  Everything  about 
the  castle  is  in  proportion.  The  castle,  with 
its  great  bailey,  covered  ten  thousand  square 
yards,  and  five  hundred  men  were  required  to 
defend  all  its  works ;  but  while  twelve  or 
fifteen  hundred  could  be  seated  in  its  colossal 
council  chamber, — the  chief  apartments  are 
(with  one  notable  exception)  of  such  vast  size 
and  lofty  height  that  it  would  seem  as  if  the  cas- 
tle were  intended  for  a  family  of  giants  rather 
than  for  a  numerous  garrison  of  ordinary  men. 
The  huge  donjon  had  but  three  stories,  each 
of  one  immense  vaulted  room.  Admittance  to 
this  tower  was  from  the  inner  court  across  a 
drawbridge,  which  closed  the  door  in  rising, 
while  a  gate  of  iron  bars  slipping  into  the  wall 
further  protected  the  entrance.  There  were 
a  staircase  and  a  drain-pipe  in  the  thickness  of 
the  walls,  and  a  vast  cellar  for  provisions  and 
munitions  of  war.  The  exterior  of  the  tower 
was  round,  but  within,  the  rooms  were  twelve- 
sided,  forming  ten  niches  for  closets,  and  giv- 
ing space  for  a  fireplace  and  a  well.  In  the 
centre  of  each  floor  was  a  large  trap-door,  and 
a  pulley  was  attached  to  the  ceiling  of  the 
upper  chamber,  so  that  bulky  objects,  ammuni- 
tion, etc.,  could  be  hoisted  from  the  cellar  to 


The  Secret  Chamber  403 

any  story.  The  second  story  did  not  differ 
from  the  first,  with  the  exception  that  it  had 
three  windows,  while  the  lower  one  was 
lighted  only  by  the  opening  in  its  ceiling 
which  communicated  with  this  chamber,  and 
by  its  iron-grated  door  opening  on  the  court. 
Even  this  could  be  closed,  as  we  have  said,  by 
the  iron  drawbridge,  so  that  the  lower  portion 
of  the  tower  was  an  unbroken  wall.  The  sec- 
ond story  also  contained  ovens  instead  of  a 
fireplace,  and  a pont-volant' could  be  thrust  out 
from  one  of  the  windows,  affording  commun- 
ication with  the  battlements  of  the  walls,  and 
allowing  their  defenders  to  receive  ammun- 
ition and  reinforcements  from  the  tower,  or 
to  seek  refuge  in  it  even  after  the  enemy  had 
obtained  possession  of  the  inner  court.  The 
upper  story  was  loftier  and  more  pretentious 
in  its  architecture  than  either  of  the  others. 
This  was  the  great  hall  of  the  castle,  where  the 
baron  assembled  his  vassal  warriors.  It  was 
handsomely  vaulted,  and  for  half  its  height 
was  wainscoted  with  wardrobes  for  the  stack- 
ing of  arms.  Above  these  closets  ran  a  gallery 
which  encircled  the  room  and  opened  upon  a 
corresponding  balcony  which  surrounded  the 
exterior  of  the  tower,  and  afforded  the  archers 
and  slingers  a  protected  chemin  de  ronde,  with 


404  Feudal  Chateaux 

openings  in  the  floor  through  which  to  pour 
boiling  tar  and  molten  lead.  The  tower  may 
have  been  roofed  by  a  platform  on  which  were 
posted  the  larger  engines  for  throwing  stones. 
Traces  of  all  of  these  details  can,  with  the  help 
of  Viollet-le-Duc's  explanations,  be  still  made 
out  in  the  dismantled  tower. 

Du  Cerceau  also  gives  plans  and  description 
of  the  entire  castle,  dwelling  with  most  inter- 
est on  the  two  great  oblong  halls  within  the 
courtyard,  called  respectively,  from  the  stat- 
ues carved  over  their  mantels,  the  halls  of  the 
Nine  Heroes  and  the  Nine  Heroines.  While 
these  rooms  are  of  corresponding  size  with  the 
donjon,  there  existed  in  the  old  exterior  wall  of 
the  castle,  and  opening  from  the  Salle  des 
Neuf  Preuses,  a  small  but  elegant  boudoir 
quite  out  of  character  with  the  rest  of  the 
building.  The  vaulting  of  the  room  is  finer 
architecturally  than  anything  else  in  the  cas- 
tle, and  it  possessed  a  large  and  sunny  win- 
dow, whose  empty  arch  still  looks  out  vacantly 
toward  the  lovely  landscape.  There  was  a  lit- 
tle fireplace  too,  and  a  tiny  bath-  and  dressing- 
room,  and  on  the  other  side,  but  still  within  the 
wall,  a  spiral  staircase  running  down  to  the 
cellars.  Opposite  the  window  was  the  door 
leading  into  the  great  salon,  but  this  could 


The  Secret  Chamber  4°5 

have  been  covered  with  tapestry,  or  so  hidden 
in  the  panelling  as  to  isolate  the  little  boudoir, 
and  make  it  a  secret  chamber  unknown  even  to 
the  occupants  of  the  castle. 

Although  so  very  small  it  was  so  finely  fin- 
ished that  Viollet-le-Duc  deems  it  worthy  of  men- 
tion, and  indicates  it  on  his  plan,  though  he  does 
not  explain  the  use  for  which  it  was  intended. 

Enguerrand  III.,  the  builder  of  the  castle, 
stands  as  the  hero  of  so  many  exploits  that 
some  of  them  may  well  be  mythical. 

After  distinguishing  himself  in  early  youth 
by  leading  the  men  of  Soissons  at  the  battle 
of  Bouvines,  he  followed  Simon  de  Montfort  in 
his  crusade  against  the  Albigenses,  and  re- 
mained the  comrade  of  his  son  Amaury  after 
the  death  of  Simon.  Feeling  that  his  exploits 
were  not  rewarded,  he  retired  sullenly  to  his 
estate  of  Coucy,  and  during  the  minority  of 
Louis  IX.  (St.  Louis)  his  resentment  and 
audacity  had  reached  such  a  pitch  that  he 
aspired  to  seizing  the  kingship.  It  was  to  for- 
ward this  scheme  that  the  mighty  fortress, 
which  we  still  wonder  at  in  its  ruins,  was 
planned  and  reared  on  the  foundations  of  an 
earlier  castle  which  Louis  VI.  had  demolished. 
Begun  in  1225,  the  work  was  pushed  forward 
so  rapidly  that  in  1230  it  was  finished.  The 


406  Feudal  Chateaux 

expense  of  building  so  hampered  Enguerrand 
that  he  delayed  hostile  demonstration,  but  for 
the  next  ten  years  he  was  busy  arming  and 
disciplining  his  vassals. 

Queen  Blanche  (the  mother  of  Louis)  and 
the  faithful  councillors  of  the  King  could  not 
see  without  apprehension  the  gathering  of  so 
formidable  an  army  near  their  doors.  Dur- 
ing the  preceding  reign,  Simon  de  Montfort 
had  found  a  vent  for  his  activity  and  a  draught 
from  the  black  waters  that  cool  all  ambition, 
in  the  war  against  the  Albigenses.  His  no 
less  powerful  son,  the  connetable  Amaury,  was 
gathering  troops  for  a  crusade, — an  employ- 
ment for  the  energies  of  belligerent  lords  with 
large  bodies  of  militia  in  their  following,  which 
was  always  welcomed  by  kings  timorous  for 
the  solidity  of  their  thrones. 

Louis  was  too  simple-minded  and  unselfish 
in  his  zeal  to  have  been  influenced  by  this  con- 
sideration, but  it  must  have  added  to  the  sat- 
isfaction of  his  councillors  when  the  young 
King  sent  for  Amaury  and  desired  that  "  he 
should  in  his  name  serve  Jesus  Christ  in  this 
war,  and  gave  him  arms  and  money,  for  which 
Amaury  thanked  him  on  his  knees.  And  the 
crusaders  were  mightily  pleased  to  have  this 
lord  with  them." 


The  Secret  Chamber  4°7 

Amaury  de  Montfort  visited  Enguerrand 
at  Coucy,  hoping  to  persuade  him  to  join  in 
the  Crusade,  and  Enguerrand  entertained  his 
old  friend  and  comrade  right  royally.  A  ban- 
quet was  given  to  him  in  the  great  vaulted 
hall  of  the  donjon,  and  knights  from  far  and 
near  were  gathered  to  meet  him.1 

"  For  now  for  every  merry  mate 
Rose  the  portcullis'  iron  gate  ; 
They  sound  the  pipe,  they  strike  the  string, 
They  dance,  they  revel,  and  they  sing 
Till  the  rude  turrets  shake  and  ring. 
Pages  with  ready  blade  were  there, 
The  mighty  meal  to  carve  and  share : 
O'er  capon,  heron-shaw,  and  crane, 
And  princely  peacock's  gilded  train, 
And  o'er  the  boar's  head  garnished  brave, 
And  cygnet  from  the  Aisne's  broad  wave, 
O'er  ptarmigan  and  venison 
The  priest  had  spoke  his  benison. 
Then  rose  the  riot  and  the  din, 
For  from  the  lofty  balcony 
Rose  trumpet,  shalm,  and  psaltery  ; 
Their  clanging  bowls  old  warriors  quaffed, 
Loudly  they  spoke  and  loudly  laughed  ; 
Whispered  young  knights  in  tone  more  mild 
To  ladies  fair,  and  ladies  smiled. 
The  hooded  hawks,  high  perched  on  beam, 
The  clamour  joined  with  whistling  scream, 

1  Walter  Scott's  description  of  such  a  feast  is  equally  applicable 
to  this  festival. 


408  Feudal  Chateaux 

And  flapped  their  wings,  and  shook  their  bells, 
In  concert  with  the  stag-hound's  yells. 
Round  go  the  flasks  of  ruddy  wine 
From  Bordeaux,  Orleans,  or  the  Rhine ; 
Their  task  the  busy  sewers  ply, 
And  all  is  mirth  and  revelry." 

But  though  the  Sieur  de  Coucy  made  the  oc- 
casion of  the  visit  of  Amaury  an  exhibition  of 
his  power  and  wealth,  he  was  not  to  be  per- 
suaded to  join  his  enterprise.  He  thought  he 
saw  in  it  a  royal  plot  to  distract  him  from  his 
ambitious  designs,  and  could  not  be  led  off  to 
the  Holy  Land  with  vague  visions  of  being 
crowned  King  of  Jerusalem,  when  a  more  at- 
tractive crown  was  nearer  at  hand.  He  would 
wait  until  Amaury  had  taken  the  loyal  troops 
out  of  France  and  then  strike  for  himself, 
meantime  masking  his  designs  under  an  ap- 
pearance of  perfect  fealty  and  unwillingness 
to  leave  the  King  unprotected.  He  appeared 
frequently  at  court  and  professed  great  concern 
for  the  King,  who  had  fallen  very  ill. 

In  this  crisis  the  preparations  for  the  crusade 
lagged,  and  Enguerrand  still  waited  patiently. 
If  the  King  died  his  opportunity  would  be 
better  still.  And  while  he  dangled  at  court  he 
fell  in  love  with  a  beautiful  woman,  the  Dame 
de  Fayal,  and  was  loved  passionately  in  return. 


$?  •    /- 

COUCY— BIRD'S-EYE  VIEW- 


The  Secret  Chamber  4°9 

It  made  no  difference  to  Enguerrand,  and 
probably  little  to  her,  that  she  was  already  a 
wife.  The  Sieur  de  Fayal  had  taken  the  cross 
under  Amaury,  and  there  was  good  chance 
that  he  would  be  slain  in  Palestine.  If  not, 
he  would  at  least  be  conveniently  out  of  the 
way  for  a  long  time, — another  reason  for  not 
going  off  on  this  wild-goose  chase.  So  with 
impatience  burning  like  a  hidden  fire  within 
his  heart,  Enguerrand  kept  an  inscrutable  de- 
meanour, and  divided  his  time  between  Coucy 
and  Vincennes,  the  King's  favourite  castle. 

Suddenly  word  was  brought  to  Enguerrand 
that  the  King  was  dying.  He  knelt  with  the 
other  lords  in  the  antechamber  waiting  for 
the  Bishop  of  Paris,  who  was  within,  to  come 
forth  and  announce  his  death.  The  stillness 
was  sharply  broken  by  the  wailing  of  two 
queens,  Blanche,  the  mother  of  the  King,  and 
Marguerite,  his  bride.  The  Bishop  lifted  the 
arras  and  instinctively  Enguerrand  rose  with 
his  hand  fumbling  the  handle  of  his  sword. 
But  the  holy  man's  face  was  lit  with  joy. 
"  The  crisis  is  past,  the  King  will  recover,  and 
in  thanksgiving  he  has  just  asked  me  to  place 
upon  his  shoulder  the  cross  of  the  voyage  over 
the  sea.  It  is  for  this  that  the  women  wail, 
but  they  should  thank  God  that  he  who  was  so 


410  Feudal  Chateaux 

near  to  being  a  saint  in  heaven  is  spared  to  be 
a  saint  on  earth." 

Thanks  to  the  chronicles  of  the  Sieur  de 
Joinville  we  have  a  clear  understanding  of  the 
character  of  Louis,  who  as  nearly  deserves  his 
title  of  saint  as  any  in  the  long  calendar :  a 
fervent  Christian,  an  ideal  knight,  pure  of  con- 
science and  tender  of  heart,  the  search-light  of 
history  pronounces  him  sans  peur  et  sans  re- 
proche. 

He  loved  to  sit  under  the  oak  of  Vincennes 
listening  to  the  complaints  of  the  humblest  of 
his  subjects,  and  administering  justice.  The 
Sieur  de  Joinville,  who  was  of  a  more  earthly 
mould,  tells  us  very  naively  of  certain  differ- 
ences of  opinion  which  arose  between  himself 
and  the  King. 

While  conducting  his  crusade  Louis  was 
much  affected  by  his  first  sight  of  a  leper,  and 
asked  De  Joinville  whether  he  would  rather 
endure  the  leprosy  or  commit  a  mortal  sin. 
The  worldly-minded  but  truthful  courtier  re- 
plied that  he  would  far  rather  commit  thirty 
deadly  sins  than  have  so  loathsome  a  disease. 
Whereupon  the  King  was  much  grieved  and 
pleaded  with  him  earnestly,  "  striving  to  show 
him  how  much  more  abominable  and  filthy 
than  a  diseased  body  was  an  unclean  soul." 


The  Secret  Chamber  411 

This  was  the  King  against  whom  Enguer- 
rand  de  Coucy  was  rebelling,  and  in  contrast 
with  whom  he  seems  a  very  Lucifer. 

The  King  intended  to  lead  personally  the 
crusaders, — would  he  never  be  gone  ?  His  men 
were  ready  now  and  impatient  for  action.  As 
Enguerrand  moodily  paced  the  park  of  Vin- 
cennes,  he  noted  the  impregnability  of  the  great 
donjon,  and  decided  that  he  would  not  hazard 
its  assault.  He  would  keep  Queen  Blanche 
penned  up  within  it  in  a  state  of  siege  with  a 
small  body  of  his  troops,  and  throw  the  main 
force  into  Paris.  These  thoughts  were  surging 
through  his  mind  when  he  met  the  King  with 
several  courtiers.  "  Here's  my  good  Enguer- 
rand," he  said,  "  who  is  so  devoted  to  my  per- 
son that  he  swore  not  to  leave  me  when  his 
friend  Amaury  besought  him  to  go  with  him. 
Ah  !  well,  we  will  now  all  go  together,"  and 
the  King  fastened  the  cross  to  the  breast  of 
the  unworthy  knight. 

Enguerrand  was  so  taken  aback  that  he  was 
speechless,  and  the  King,  pretending  not  to 
notice  his  confusion,  bade  him  go  to  his  castle 
and  put  his  vassals  into  marching  order. 

Enguerrand  rode  swiftly  to  Coucy,  but  he 
had  no  thought,  though  the  cross  had  been 
forced  upon  him,  of  really  joining  the  crusade. 


412  Feudal  Chateaux    . 

He  would  delay  on  one  pretext  and  another, 
always  finding  some  reason  why  his  troops 
were  not  ready,  and  promising  to  follow  and 
meet  the  King  at  Aigues-Mortes,  from  which 
point  the  Genoese  fleet  was  to  convey  the 
crusaders  to  Cyprus.  At  the  last  moment  the 
King  would  set  sail  without  him,  and  then  ! 

All  worked  as  he  planned.  The  King  had 
left  at  the  head  of  his  army.  Enguerrand  only 
waited  to  attack  Paris  for  a  trusty  courier 
whom  he  had  sent  with  the  crusaders  to  inform 
him  that  they  had  really  sailed.  A  few  days 
before  the  messenger  was  expected,  he  arrived, 
his  horse  staggering  and  white  with  foam. 
He  handed  the  Sieur  de  Coucy  a  perfumed 
note.  "  But  this  is  from  the  Dame  de  Fayal," 
he  exclaimed,  as  he  saw  the  device  upon  the 
seal  which  they  had  agreed  upon  between 
themselves. — a  heart  and  the  words  "  Thine  till 
death  and  after." 

"Yes,  my  lord,"  replied  the  courier;  "the 
lady  is  with  the  army,  and  recognising  me,  sent 
one  of  her  people  to  me  with  this  letter,  beg- 
ging me  to  carry  it  to  you  in  all  haste." 

Enguerrand  tore  open  the  missive  and  read 
to  his  astonishment :  "  My  husband  suspects 
our  attachment,  and  has  discovered  that  you 
do  not  intend  to  go  upon  this  crusade  ;  he  has 


The  Secret  Chamber  413 

therefore  determined  to  take  me  with  him. 
Rescue  me." 

The  word  was  enough.  It  was  not  an  un- 
precedented thing  for  wives  to  accompany 
their  husbands.  Queen  Marguerite  had  her- 
self gone  with  the  King ;  the  Dame  de 
Fayal  would  probably  be  left  with  her  in  some 
safe  fortress  near  the  scene  of  action.  Enguer- 
rand's  visions  of  usurpation  shrivelled  in  the 
flame  of  his  passion.  He  ordered  his  forces  to 
march  at  once,  and  endeavoured  to  overtake 
the  army.  When  he  arrived  at  Aigues-Mortes 
he  found  that  it  had  sailed,  but  the  King  had 
left  a  transport  for  him  and  he  followed  to 
Cyprus. 

Then  he  found  that  he  had  been  tricked. 
The  Sieur  de  Fayal,  having  read  his  wife's 
letter,  had  allowed  it  to  be  sent,  and  rightly 
calculating  its  effect,  had  left  the  lady  in  the 
care  of  some  nuns  of  Provence. 

But  Enguerrand  and  his  men  were  now 
actively  engaged  in  the  crusade,  and  there  was 
no  other  course  open  but  to  follow  it  to  its 
bitter  end.  Bitter  it  was,  for  he  met  his  death 
at  Damietta.  Dying,  he  bade  his  squire  have 
his  heart  embalmed  in  spices,  placed  in  a  silver 
reliquary  inscribed  with  the  motto  "  Thine 
till  death  and  after,"  and  so  to  carry  it  to  the 


4H  Feudal  Chateaux 

Dame  de  Fayal.  And  now  comes  the  most 
darkly  tragic  part  of  the  story,  but  so  in  har- 
mony with  those  brutal  times  that  several 
similar  instances  are  recorded  in  authentic 
chronicles.  Revolting  as  it  is,  it  forms  the 
theme  for  old  French  ballads  and  is  referred 
to  by  Longfellow. 

The  Sieur  de  Fayal,  intercepting  Enguer- 
rand's  squire  in  the  performance  of  his  errand, 
gained  possession  of  the  heart  and  had  it 
skilfully  cooked  and  served  to  his  wife.  This 
ghoulish  feast  was  her  last,  for  she  died  of 
horror  when  told  that  she  had  eaten  the  heart 
of  her  lover. 

On  first  hearing  this  ghastly  tradition  I 
fancied  that  in  it  I  had  found  the  clue  to  the 
mystery  of  the  Secret  Chamber,  and  that  it 
might  have  been  for  the  Dame  de  Fayal  that 
it  was  so  cunningly  hidden  and  so  elegantly 
appointed.  But  there  is  no  such  heartless 
iconoclast  as  research.  Further  historical 
study  developed  the  fact  that  the  legend  was 
mythical ;  and  architects  insist  that  the  little 
room  is  of  a  later  date  than  the  rest  of  the 
castle,  and  could  never  have  known  either 
Enguerrand  III.  or  the  Dame  de  Fayal. 


The  Secret  Chamber 


II 

Coucy  tells  its  secret  to  the  Chdteau  of  Pier  re- 
fonds,  and  the  latter  blabs  it,  thereby  proving 
that  walls  have  tongues  as  well  as  ears. 

Another  turn  and  a  half  of  the  century  hour- 
glass, and  the  Chateau  of  Coucy  was  to  play 
again  its  old  role  of  menace  to  royalty. 

When  that  strange  insanity  fell  upon  Charles 
VI.,  his  brother,  Louis  of  Orleans,  ruled  the 
kingdom  as  regent,  and  there  was  little  con- 
cealment of  the  guilty  attachment  which  he 
cherished  for  the  Queen,  Isabel  of  Bavaria. 
The  regency  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans  had  been 
stoutly  contested  by  his  uncle,  the  Duke  of 
Burgundy,  and  on  the  latter's  death  his  son, 
John  the  Fearless,  took  up  the  enmity  while 
feigning  friendship  for  his  cousin. 

Louis  of  Orleans  had  married  the  lovely 
Valentine  de  Visconti  of  Milan,  and  before  the 
coming  of  the  fateful  Queen  theirs  had  been 
a  happy  home  in  the  ancestral  castle  of  the 
counts  of  Blois,  which  Louis  had  purchased. 
He  was  an  extravagant  purchaser  and  builder 
of  castles,  and  besides  those  mentioned  in  this 
chapter  possessed  several  which  do  not  bear 
upon  our  story. 

His  duties  as  regent  took  him  to  Paris,  and 


4i  6  Feudal  Chateaux 

here  the  little  palace  called  the  Hotel  de 
Boh6me  (which  had  been  the  favourite  resi- 
dence of  Queen  Blanche,  the  mother  of  St. 
Louis)  was  given  him  by  the  King  in  1388. 

Valentine  came  to  Paris  with  him  and  fitted 
up  the  mansion  with  great  magnificence.  She 
had  brought  with  her  from  Italy,  not  alone 
great  store  of  art  treasures,  but  the  cultured 
Italian  taste.  She  was  the  avant-courrikre  of 
the  Italian  Renaissance  which  in  the  next 
century  was  to  take  France  by  storm.  _ 

But  this  palatial  town-house  and  the  chateau 
at  Blois  were  not  sufficient  for  the  Duke  of 
Orleans.  He  realised  that  he  had  deadly  ene- 
mies, and  that  he  must  have  a  stronghold  near 
at  hand,  to  which  to  flee  upon  sudden  emer- 
gency, and  in  1396  he  purchased  the  Chateau  of 
Coucy  for  four  hundred  thousand  livres.  Louis 
at  once  set  to  work  altering,  improving,  and 
embellishing  the  old  castle,  and  Viollet-le-Duc 
very  carefully  traces  these  alterations,  distin- 
guishing between  the  rude  masonry  of  Enguer- 
rand  and  the  more  elegant  architecture  of  the 
portions  erected  at  this  period. 

Enguerrand  had  lived  in  the  donjon,  but 
Louis  used  it  only  for  his  garrison,  build- 
ing within  the  inner  court  the  handsome  resi- 
dential portion,  including  the  two  great  halls 


The  Secret  Chamber  4r7 

of  the  Nine  Heroes  and  Nine  Heroines.  It 
was  he  who  had  the  statues  carved  over  the 
mantels,  and  the  ornamentation  was  perfectly 
in  harmony  with  his  educated  taste,  for  Louis 
was  a  scholar  and  left  at  Blois  the  foundation 
of  a  library  which  his  son  and  grandson  in- 
creased and  rendered  famous.  Among  the 
books  still  remaining  which  are  known  to  have 
belonged  to  him  are  :  a  Bible,  Horace,  Virgil, 
Ovid's  Metamorphoses,  the  Koran,  the  Fables 
of  /Esop,  and  the  History  of  King  Arthur  and 
the  Saint  Graal.  Valentine,  for  the  amuse- 
ment of  their  children,  caused  two  little 
picture-books  to  be  made,  "  illuminated  with 
gold,  azure,  and  vermilion,  and  bound  in  Cor- 
dovan leather,  at  a  cost  of  four  hundred  francs." 
Louis  and  Valentine  had  much  in  common, 
for  they  both  loved  art,  literature,  and  refined 
luxury.  Sauval,  in  his  Histoire  et  recherches 
des  antiquit^s  de  la  ville  de  Paris,  describes  the 
magnificent  appointments  of  their  town-house, 
where  they  maintained  a  train  of  two  hundred 
servants.  The  spacious  salons  were  hung 
with  cloth  of  gold  embroidered  with  the  coats- 
of-arms  of  Louis  and  Valentine,  and  with 
tapestries,  one  of  which  represented  the  Seven 
Virtues  and  the  Seven  Vices,  another  the 

history  of   Charlemagne,  and  a  third  that  of 
27 


4i 8  Feudal  Chateaux 

St.  Louis.  The  chairs  were  covered  with  Cor- 
dovan leather  or  velvet ;  the  ceilings  were  pan- 
elled in  Irish  oak  like  those  in  the  Louvre ; 
and  huge  silver  vases,  statues,  and  costly  paint- 
ings filled  the  rooms.  Valentine  was  as  ex- 
travagant in  her  generosity,  and  a  munificent 
list  is  given  of  the  presents  which  she  made 
upon  a  certain  New  Year's  Day,  among  which 
figure : 

"To  the  Queen  Isabel,  an  enamel  painting  on  gold 
of  St.  John,  framed  with  nine  rubies,  a  sapphire,  and 
twenty-one  pearls,  a  brooch  set  with  a  great  ruby  and 
six  great  pearls  for  the  King,  three  pairs  of  '  paternosters  ' 
(missals)  for  the  daughters  of  the  King,  and  two  great 
diamonds  for  the  dukes  of  Burgundy  and  Berry." 

During  the  mad  King's  intervals  of  sanity, 
Valentine  devoted  herself  to  amusing  him,  as 
one  would  entertain  a  child  with  games  and 
stories.  Louis  saw  with  satisfaction  the  influ- 
ence which  her  unselfish  kindness  might  gain 
over  his  brother,  and  while  she  was  thus  chari- 
tably engaged  employed  himself  with  entertain- 
ing the  Queen.  But  the  Duke  of  Burgundy 
was  not  to  be  consoled  for  Louis's  usurpation 
of  power  by  gifts  of  "  great  diamonds,"  and 
cousinly  courtesies.  John  the  Fearless  had 
well  earned  his  name — and  Louis  d'Orleans 
knew  that  he  was  not  for  one  moment  safe, 


The  Secret  Chamber  4*9 

and  he  pushed  on  his  construction  at  Coucy. 
With  Viollet-le-Duc  for  our  guide  we  under- 
stand perfectly  Louis's  alterations,  and  see  how 
he  machicolated  the  parapets  for  their  better 
defence,  enlarged  the  windows,  and  gave  every 
tower  its  separate  staircase,  though  at  every 
story  changing  the  position  of  the  flight  of 
stairs  from  one  side  of  the  tower  to  the  other, 
obliging  anyone  desiring  to  mount  from  the 
ground  floor  to  cross  at  each  landing  a  guard- 
room, and  so  protecting  the  castle  from  the 
entrance  of  spies  and  assassins.  Most  inter- 
esting of  all,  we  see  how  the  little  room  was 
niched  in  the  thickness  of  the  old  wall,  and  the 
elegant  vaulting  of  this  period  encrusted  on 
the  rough  stonework.  It  was  Louis  d'Orleans 
and  not  Enguerrand  who  built  the  Secret 
Chamber  and  ornamented  it  in  such  regal 
style. 

There  is  no  proof  that  it  was  ever  occupied. 
Louis  was  disappointed  in  Coucy.  It  was  too 
far  from  Paris,  and,  in  spite  of  the  changes 
which  he  effected,  not  adapted  to  the  improve- 
ments which  had  been  made  in  warfare.  It 
long  remained  the  appanage  of  the  dukes  of 
Orleans,  was  a  part  of  the  marriage  portion  of 
Claude,  the  wife  of  Francis  I.,  and  was  finally 
dismantled  by  Mazarin's  orders.  Although 


420  Feudal  Chateaux 

Coucy  had  not  fully  answered  his  expectations, 
it  suggested  much  which  Louis  embodied  in 
the  fortress  of  Pierrefonds,  which  he  erected 
between  1390  and  1404.  Thanks  to  the  in- 
telligent and  enthusiastic  restoration  of  Viol- 
let-le-Duc,  this  castle  presents  to-day  every 
detail  of  mediaeval  times. 

While  it  took  a  garrison  of  five  hundred 
men  to  defend  Coucy,  sixty  men  could  man 
the  larger  sides  of  Pierrefonds,  and  forty  the 
smaller.  It  was  necessary  to  pass  entirely 
around  the  castle  in  the  fosse  to  enter  it,  while 
the  fortifications  were  so  connected  that  the 
defenders  could  be  shifted  instantly  to  what- 
ever point  was  attacked.  To  lay  siege  to  this 
fortress,  at  least  two  thousand  men  were  re- 
quired (more  than  could  be  thrown  into  the 
field  by  the  Duke  of  Burgundy),  and  it  was 
absolutely  proof  against  any  assault  but  artil- 
lery. Here  he  repeated  the  two  great  halls  of 
the  Nine  Heroes  and  Nine  Heroines,  and  few 
of  us,  I  fancy,  are  so  familiar  with  history  as 
to  give,  without  a  little  research,  the  stories  of 
the  ladies  who  still  look  down  from  the  great 
mantel:  Semiramis,  Lampedo,  Delphila,  Tham- 
yris,  Tanqua,  Penthesilea,  Menelippe,  Hippo- 
lyte,  and  Deifemme. 

Pierrefonds  has  eight  great  towers,  each  one 


PIERREFONDS— BIRD'S-EYE  VIEW. 


The  Secret  Chamber  421 

hundred  and  twelve  feet  high,  with  walls  from 
fifteen  to  twenty  feet  thick.  So  impregnable 
was  it  that  it  withstood  four  royal  sieges,  and 
was  only  taken  and  dismantled,  though  not 
demolished,  in  1616,  by  that  great  iconoclast 
Richelieu,  who,  in  pursuing  his  policy  of 
strengthening  the  monarchy,  destroyed  so 
many  of  the  strongholds  of  feudalism.  Its 
ruins  were  purchased  by  Napoleon  I.,  whose 
interest  in  this  castle  was  shared  by  Napoleon 
III.,  who  contributed  from  his  personal  pro- 
perty one-third  of  the  five  million  francs  (the 
State  voting  the  other  two-thirds)  which  were 
necessary  to  restore  it.  The  artist  will  always 
care  more  for  the  picturesque  ruin  of  Coucy, 
but  to  the  antiquarian  and  the  architect  the 
glistening  walls  of  Pierrefonds  are  invaluable. 
The  equestrian  statue  of  Louis  d'Orleans 
stands  in  the  inner  court  in  front  of  the  grand 
staircase,  where  he  had  expected  to  stand  to 
welcome  the  Queen,  for  at  last  she  had  pro- 
mised to  be  his  guest,  and  Valentine  had  been 
posted  off  to  Blois.  The  fortress  of  Pierre- 
fonds was  finished,  and  all  arrangements  were 
made  for  a  merry  celebration  of  Noel  therein. 
For  the  moment  the  Duke  of  Burgundy 
seemed  to  have  buried  his  enmity,  for  he  had 
dined  with  Louis  at  his  own  house,  and  they 


422  Feudal  Chateaux 

had  met  together  in  cousinly  fashion  at  the 
mansion  of  their  uncle,  the  Duke  of  Berry. 

"On  the  23d  of  November,  1407,"  says  Guizot,  "the 
Duke  of  Orleans  had  dined  at  the  palace  with  Queen 
Isabel.  He  was  returning  in  the  evening  along  the  old 
Rue  du  Temple,  thinking  of  the  woman  whom  he  loved, 
and  singing  gayly  a  love-song.  He  was  attended  by  only 
a  few  servants  carrying  torches.  When  the  Duke  was 
about  a  hundred  paces  from  the  Queen's  hostel,  eighteen 
or  twenty  armed  men,  who  had  lain  in  ambush  behind  a 
house  (called  the  Image  de  Notre  Dame),  rushed  upon 
the  Duke,  shouting,  *  Death,  death  ! '  *  What  is  all  this  ? ' 
said  he, — '  I  am  the  Duke  of  Orleans.'  '  Just  what  we 
want,'  was  the  answer,  and  they  struck  at  him  with  axe 
and  sword,  and  as  they  fled  put  out  all  lights.  The  Duke 
was  quite  dead.  He  was  carried  to  a  neighbouring 
church,  whither  all  the  royal  family  came  to  render 
the  last  sad  offices.  The  provost  of  Paris  set  on  foot 
an  active  search  after  the  assassins.  The  Council  of 
Princes  met  at  the  Hotel  de  Nesle.  The  Duke  of 
Burgundy  came  to  take  his  seat,  but  the  Duke  of  Berry 
went  to  the  door  and  said  to  him,  '  Nephew,  give  up  the 
notion  of  entering  the  council  ;  you  would  not  be  seen 
there  with  pleasure." 

" '  I  give  up  willingly,'  answered  the  Duke,  '  and  that 
none  may  be  accused  of  putting  to  death  the  Duke  of 
Orleans,  I  declare  that  it  was  I  and  none  other  who 
caused  the  doing  of  what  has  been  done.'  Thereupon 
he  turned  his  horse's  head  and  galloped  without  a  halt, 
except  to  change  horses,  to  the  frontier  of  Flanders." 

But  this  was  not  the  end.  Valentine  de 
Visconti,  widow  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  with 


The  Secret  Chamber  423 

all  her  passionate  Italian  nature  clamoured 
for  justice,  and  finding  that  she  could  not 
obtain  it,  inculcated  the  duty  of  revenge  upon 
her  children,  and  not  upon  her  own  alone,  but 
upon  a  little  illegitimate  son  of  the  Duke  of 
Orleans  whom  she  adopted,  saying,  "  This  one 
was  filched  from  me,  yet  there  is  not  a  child 
so  well  cut  out  as  he  to  avenge  his  father's 
death."  It  was  the  Italian  tradition  of  the 
vendetta. 

Valentine's  eldest  son,  Charles,  was  of  a  gen- 
tle, poetic  nature,  that  shrank  from  deeds 
of  violence,  but  twenty-five  years  later  the 
child  of  the  bar  sinister  was  the  famous  "  Du- 
nois,  Batard  d'Orleans."  Valentine,  taking  for 
her  motto  Rien  ne  mest  plus,  plus  ne  mest 
rien  (I  have  nothing  any  more,  nothing  hence- 
forth is  of  any  worth  to  me),  gave  herself  to 
the  inculcation  of  revenge,  but  soon  died  at 
Blois  of  a  broken  heart. 

France  took  up  the  quarrel,  and  took  sides, 
until  the  death  of  Charles,  either  with  the  Duke 
of  Burgundy  or  with  Valentine.  Meanwhile 
the  English  invaded  the  kingdom,  and,  after 
the  battle  of  Agincourt,  pressed  toward  Paris. 

Isabel,  whom  "  faith  unfaithful  could  not 
keep  even  falsely  true  "  to  her  dead  lover,  was 
fascinated  by  the  audacity  of  his  murderer,  and 


424  Feudal  Chateaux 

favoured  the  cause  of  the  Duke  of  Burgundy. 
The  King,  in  an  interval  of  sanity,  had  her 
banished  from  Paris  and  shut  up  at  Tours. 
The  Queen  managed  to  send  her  golden  seal 
to  the  t)uke  of  Burgundy,  who,  with  his  men- 
at-arms,  rode  from  Corbeil  to  Tours  and  car- 
ried her  off.  With  characteristic  audacity, 
they  returned  to  Paris  and  attempted  to  seize 
the  government ;  but  the  dauphin,  soon  to  be 
crowned  as  Charles  VII.,  took  upon  himself 
the  task  to  which  Valentine  had  striven  to 
educate  the  sons  of  Louis  d'Orleans,  and  just 
twelve  years  after  his  murder  caused  the  Duke 
of  Burgundy  to  be  assassinated  on  the  bridge 
of  Montereau. 

Then,  until  the  meeting  of  the  peasant  girl 
of  Domremy  with  Dunois  and  the  young  King 
at  Chinon,  the  English  swept  all  before  them 
in  France. 

The  history  of  Charles  of  Orleans,  the  poet 
son  of  Louis  and  Valentine,  is  associated  more 
with  the  Chateau  of  Blois  than  with  Coucy, 
and  Pierrefonds,  which  he  inherited ;  and  yet 
we  are  certain  that  he  must  have  had  the  fire- 
place of  the  Nine  Heroines  in  mind  when,  car- 
ried to  England  as  a  prisoner  by  the  English, 
he  beguiled  his  captivity  by  composing  his 
graceful  verses  on  the  Heroines  of  the  Past. 


The  Secret  Chamber  425 

"  En  viei  'temps  grant  renom  couroit 

De  Criseis,  d'Yseud,  et  Elaine, 
Et  maintes  autres  qu'on  nommoit, 

Parfaictes  en  beaute  hautaine. 
Mais  enfin  en  son  domaine, 

La  mor  les  pris  piteusement, 
Parquoi  puis  voir  cl^rement, 

Ce  mond  n'est  que  chose  vaine."1 

1  Charles  was  the  friend  and  early  patron  of  Villon,  and  enter- 
tained him  at  Blois.  It  was  directly  on  this  poem  that  the  latter 
modelled  his  better-known  Les  Neiges  d'Antan  : 

"  La  Royne  Blanche  comme  un  lys, 

Qui  chantait  a  voix  de  sereine, 
Berthe  au  grand  pied,  Bietris,  Allys, 
Harembourges  qui  tient  le  Mayne. 
Et  Jehanne  la  bonne  Lorraine, — 

Qu'Anglois  bruslerent  a  Rouen  : 
Ou  sont-ilz  Vierge  Souveraine  ? 
Mais  ou  sont  les  neiges  d'Antan  ?  " 


CHAPTER  XII 
THE   AFTERWORD 

The  old  order  changeth,  yielding  place  to  new. — TENNYSON. 

HPHE  feudal  period  ends  with  the  reign  of 
*  Louis  XL,  for  he  broke  the  power  of  the 
independent  barons  and  ushered  in  that  of 
royalty.  Henceforth  the  chateaux-forts  were 
appropriated  by  the  State,  and  many  of  them 
were  converted  into  prisons. 

"  In  general,"  says  Linguet,  "  all  Replaces 
fortes  could  at  will  become  as  many  bastilles  ; 
there  is  not  one  of  these  fortresses,  raised  ap- 
parently against  foreign  enemies,  which  a  min- 
isterial caprice  could  not  instantly  change  into 
the  tomb  of  the  children  of  France." 

Amboise,  Chinon,  and  Vincennes  bear  out 
this  statement,  both  in  their  history  and  their 
sinister  appearance,  but  most  grewsome  and 

426 


• 


The  Afterword  427 

heart-sickening  in  the  mute  testimony  of  its 
dungeons  and  torture  chambers  is  Louis  XL's 
favourite  prison  castle  of  Loches.  Near  these 
prisons  were  reared  the  terrible  chateaux  of 
death,  the  ghastly  gibbets,  which,  like  that  of 
Montfaucon,  frequently  held  many  bodies,  and 
a  new  victim  was  often  suspended  between  the 
skeletons  of  other  criminals  or  martyrs. 

As  the  monarchy  became  more  firmly  estab- 
lished the  state  had  less  occasion  for  prisons 
and  forts,  and  many  were  torn  down. 

The  hour  was  striking,  too,  for  a  change  in 
domestic  architecture  with  the  changed  polit- 
ical conditions.  The  power  of  the  nobles  was 
broken  ;  they  could  no  longer  contend  against 
their  sovereign,  and  the  desire  to  do  so  van- 
ished with  the  power.  The  nobility  themselves 
tore  down  their  old  fortresses  or  made  them 
over.  The  narrow  meurtrieres  for  arrow- 
shots  gave  place  to  broad  windows,  the  mas- 
sive walls  to  elegant  carving,  and  the  white 
chateaux  of  the  Renaissance  rose  to  mark  an- 
other period  in  architecture  and  another  epoch 
in  history. 

While  we  were  at  Pierrefonds,  a  merry  letter 
came  from  Yseult,  bidding  us  to  the  promised 
Court  of  Love  at  Chateau  La  Joyeuse. 


428  Feudal  Chateaux 

"  I  have  arranged  all  the  details,"  she  wrote.  "  We 
will  hold  it  on  the  terrace  in  front  of  the  long  corridor. 
I  have  the  costumes  ready,  and  the  list  of  guests, — only  a 
few  choice  spirits,  to  be  invited  when  you  have  set  the 
date.  Louis  Rondel  has  been  practising  upon  the  lute 
till  he  is  a  capital  jongleur,  and  he  looks  remarkably 
well  in  his  troubadour's  costume.  The  dresses  have  all 
been  lent  me  by  an  historical  painter,  an  old  friend  of 
my  father's,  Monsieur  Leon  Gautier,  of  Blois,  who  has 
entered  heartily  into  the  spirit  of  the  affair.  He  and 
Madame  Gautier  will  sing  some  airs  composed  by 
Thibault,  of  Champagne,  in  1235.  When  will  our  trou- 
vere  be  ready  with  her  romances  ? " 

"  We  must  not  keep  them  waiting,"  said  my 
husband.  "  Early  summer  is  just  the  season 
for  the  court  to  sit.  My  mind  is  greatly  re- 
lieved by  Yseult's  reference  to  Rondel.  I 
feared  that  when  the  Vicomte  was  reinstated 
in  his  position  he  would  have  a  relapse  into 
the  old  caste  feeling,  but  apparently  every- 
thing is  joyful.  I  hope  your  legends  are 
ready." 

"  Quite  ready,"  I  replied;  "but  it  is  a  pity 
that  we  have  not  heard  from  the  Chairman  of 
the  Search  Committee  on  applications  for  ad- 
mission to  the  Society  of  the  Colonial  Wars, 
to  whom  you  sent  the  papers  which  the 
Vicomte  gave  us." 

"  Oh !   they  came  back  weeks  ago,  with  a 


LOCHES. 


The  Afterword  429 

letter  from  Bradford  Brewster,  so  long  and  so 
illegible  that  I  have  n't  had  the  time  to  puzzle 
it  out." 

"  Let  me  try,"  I  said,  and  I  found  the 
cramped,  old-fashioned  script  which  the  anti- 
quarian had  affected  not  at  all  difficult  to 
decipher. 

"  I  have  verified  the  events  detailed  in  the  diary  of 
the  Vicomte  La  Joyeuse,"  he  wrote,  "  and  have  found 
that  his  service  is  honourably  mentioned  in  the  official 
records  of  the  Revolutionary  War.  He  was  aide-de-camp 
to  Rochambeau  at  the  battle  of  Yorktown,  where  he  was 
wounded.  It  was  before  he  had  recovered  that  he  re- 
ceived the  news,  which  he  so  touchingly  deplores  in  his 
diary,  of  the  death  of  his  young  wife,  to  whom  he  was 
married  during  the  stay  of  the  French  allies  at  Newport. 
'  I  told  my  dear  Jane,'  he  writes,  '  that  I  was  a  swallow, 
a  bird  of  passage,  that  must  fly  away,  but  that  I  would  as 
certainly  return.  Alas  !  her  swallow  has  no  incentive  to 
cross  the  seas  again.' 

"  This  word  '  swallow,'  frequently  repeated  in  the 
diary,  has  set  me  on  the  track  of  an  important  discovery. 
A  year  ago  I  had  the  task  of  looking  up  the  ancestry  of 
an  applicant  for  admission  to  our  society,  a  certain 
Louis  Rondel.  It  was  all  straight  sailing  back  to  a 
Coddington  L'Hirondelle  of  Newport.  Apparently  this 
had  been  the  original  name — the  French  word  for  swal- 
low— and  I  fancied  that  the  father  of  this  Coddington 
was  one  of  the  French  allies  ;  but  I  could  not  find  the 
name  of  L'Hirondelle  either  on  the  rolls  of  the  French 
soldiers  or  on  any  marriage  record,  and  we  were  obliged 


43°  Feudal  Chateaux 

to  decline  M.  Rondel's  application  for  membership. 
After  reading  the  diary  which  you  sent  me,  I  took  a  run 
down  to  Newport  and  found  the  record  of  the  marriage  of 
Jane  Coddington  to  Louis  Raoul,  Vicomte  de  La  Joyeuse. 
"  To  me  the  conclusion  is  evident  that  the  couple 
were  secretly  married,  that  the  Vicomte  never  knew  that 
his  wife  had  left  him  an  infant  son,  or  her  relatives  the 
name  and  rank  of  the  child's  father.  They  called  him 
L'Hirondelle,  because  the  Vicomte  had  so  signed  him- 
self in  his  letters  to  his  wife.  I  have  written  M.  Louis 
Rondel  that  I  have  at  last  found  the  missing  link  in  his 
ancestry,  and  that  he  is  now  eligible  as  a  member  of  our 
society.  More  than  this,  it  appears  by  the  Vicomte's 
diary  that  he  married  again  on  his  return  to  France,  and 
that  he  left  descendants, — your  friends  for  whom  you 
are  making  these  inquiries.  You  can  readily  see  that 
they  are  descended  from  the  cadet  or  younger  son,  and 
that  the  title  should  revert  to  the  older  branch." 

"  Stop  right  there,"  exclaimed  my  husband, 
"until  I  can  take  it  in.  If  this  is  true,  Louis 
Rondel  is  the  real  Vicomte  La  Joyeuse.  Well, 
that  is  a  little  better  than  Anatole.  The 
Vicomte  can  hardly  now  object  to  the  mar- 
riage on  account  of  inequality  of  rank ;  and, 
as  he  has  no  son,  he  ought  to  be  glad  that 
the  name  and  title  are  preserved  for  his 
descendants." 

"  I  don't  know,"  I  replied  doubtfully ;  "  there 
is  no  telling  how  the  Vicomte  will  take  this 
second  shock,  and  he  has  been  through  a  great 


The  Afterword  431 

deal  of  late.  Mr.  Brewster  says  he  has  writ- 
ten Louis  Rondel.  I  am  glad  of  it,  for  that 
absolves  us  from  the  responsibility  of  announ- 
cing the  discovery." 

We  found  Chateau  La  Joyeuse  so  trans- 
formed by  the  gay  company  which  filled  its 
spacious  rooms,  that  we  hardly  recognised  it. 
At  last  it  realised  its  name.  Lights  twinkled, 
flowers  breathed  perfume  and  gave  great 
splashes  of  colour,  music  set  our  pulses  thrill- 
ing, beautiful  women  smiled,  and  gay  young 
people  laughed  and  danced.  The  Vicomte 
himself  was  radiant, — none  gayer  or  younger. 
He  welcomed  us  most  heartily,  as  did  the 
Vicomtesse,  who  wore  the  family  jewels  and 
looked  more  queenly  than  ever. 

"  I  am  so  glad,"  I  ventured,  "  that  you  have 
made  Louis  Rondel  happy, — he  is  such  a  good 
fellow." 

"  Ah  !  yes,"  replied  the  Vicomte.  "  It  is  not 
the  match  to  which  we  might  have  aspired  for 
our  daughter,  but  he  is,  as  you  say,  a  good 
fellow,  and  very  appreciative  of  the  honour 
done  him." 

"Yes,  very  appreciative,"  murmured  Ma- 
dame ;  "  it  is  quite  a  pleasure  to  condescend. 
He  is  never  failing  in  respect  to  the  Vicomte, 
and  his  arm  is  always  at  my  service." 


43 2  Feudal  Chateaux 

The  Gautiers  came  forward  while  she  was 
speaking,  and  led  us  into  another  room  to  in- 
spect the  costumes.  The  artist  had  sent  his 
historical  collection,  and  Yseult  had  had  them 
copied  or  adjusted  for  each  guest. 

"You  were  so  enthusiastic  over  the  old 
Courts  of  Love  when  we  saw  you  at  Chinon," 
I  said  to  Monsieur  Gautier,  "  that  I  should  not 
be  surprised  if  this  entertainment  were  entirely 
of  your  planning." 

"  On  the  contrary,  it  was  Mademoiselle 
Yseult  who  suggested  Berengaria's  story  to 
me.  We  were  here  just  before  we  went  to 
Chinon,  soon  after  your  first  visit.  I  was 
struck  by  that  delightfully  grotesque  piece  of 
armour  which  hangs  over  the  door." 

I  looked  up  quickly.  The  face  which  Fi- 
nette  had  assured  us  had  vanished  was  in  its 
place  again.  Was  it  an  augury  of  coming  evil  ? 
My  superstition  was  quickly  dispelled  as  Mon- 
sieur Gautier  continued  calmly : 

"  It  exactly  resembled  the  shoulder-pieces  of 
a  cuirass  worn  by  Joan  of  Arc  in  an  old  paint- 
ing by  an  artist  of  Lorraine.  Our  friends 
were  good  enough  to  lend  it  to  me,  and  you 
remarked  upon  it  when  you  saw  it  at  Chinon. 
I  did  not  tell  you  then  where  I  obtained  it,  for 
that  would  rather  have  spoiled  the  effect  of  its 


The  Afterword  433 

weird  appearances  and  vanishings,  with  which  I 
saw  that  you  were  somewhat  impressed." 

"  What  a  rogue  you  are  ! "  I  exclaimed,  some- 
what piqued.  "  You  have  explained  one  part 
of  its  mysterious  history,  but  can  you  tell  me 
how  it  happened  that  I  was  continually  chan- 
cing upon  that  impish  thing  in  our  wanderings  ? 
Were  you  responsible  for  its  appearance  in  the 
legends  which  we  heard  at  Angers,  at  Mont  St. 
Michel,  at  Ploermel,  and  elsewhere?" 

"  Not  I ;  but  I  cannot  vouch  as  much  for 
your  mischief -loving  friend,  Mademoiselle 
Yseult." 

"  How  could  Yseult  have  had  anything  to 
do  with  the  legends  that  I  found  in  these 
widely  distant  places  ?  " 

"Very  easily.  She  read  me,  for  instance, 
the  story  of  Turold,  which  she  composed  with 
the  help  of  Miss  Strickland's  Life  of  Queen  Ma- 
tilda, and  other  histories,  and  sent  to  her  friend 
the  nun,  at  Caen,  to  give  to  you.  As  for  the 
other  traditions,  I  think  you  will  find  that 
most  of  them  were  arranged  in  the  same  way 
and  came  to  you  through  Zephyre  and  Anatole, 
who  were  suborned  through  the  agency  of 
Mademoiselle  Yseult's  maid  Finette,  at  least 
so  far  as  to  introduce  the  strange  face  into 
their  fabliaux." 


434  Feudal  Chateaux 

It  was  not  in  human  nature  to  feel  no  indig- 
nation on  learning  how  egregiously  I  had  been 
played  upon  and  hoaxed, — but  no  one  could 
cherish  resentment  against  such  a  friend  as 
Yseult.  I  punished  her  by  making  her  ac- 
knowledge her  misdeeds  before  the  Court  of 
Love,  where  the  noble  lady  presiding  con- 
demned her  to  wear  shackles  forever,  and  to 
be  guarded  for  the  rest  of  her  life  by  a  jailer 
who  could  not  be  corrupted  by  any  bribe  to 
give  her  liberty.  Merlin's  castle  of  Brceci- 
lande  was  named  as  her  prison ;  the  shackle, 
which  was  fastened  on  in  the  presence  of  the 
court,  was  a  tiny  iron  ring  set  with  carbuncles, 
and  Louis  Rondel  was  constituted  her  guard. 

"  And  how  about  the  mysterious  footfalls  on 
the  vanished  staircase  ? "  I  asked  Finette  one 
day,  when  I  found  her  alone  in  the  library. 
"  Have  you  heard  them  again  since  the  face 
has  come  back  ?  " 

"  No,  Madame,"  Finette  replied,  with  a 
sheepish  look,  "  and  no  one  will  ever  hear  them 
again." 

"Why  not?"  I  asked. 

"  Because,  Madame,  that  was  a  practical 
joke  of  Anatole's  when  he  was  a  boy.  He  was 
flying  his  kite  over  the  chateau  and  its  tail 
caught  in  the  girouette  (weathercock)  on  the 


The  Afterword  435 

turret.  It  was  a  long  tail  of  stout  twine,  with 
a  bit  of  wood  fastened  to  the  end  to  make  it 
heavy.  When  the  wind  blew  the  weathercock 
round  and  round,  it  would  wind  and  unwind 
the  kite-tail,  and  cause  it  to  bang  and  drag 
against  the  library  wall,  mounting  and  descend- 
ing, clap,  clap,  clap,  like  the  tap  of  a  shoe  on 
a  staircase.  All  the  other  bobs  wore  away, 
but  the  grey  string  and  the  bit  of  wood  re- 
mained, so  near  the  colour  of  the  wall  that  no 
one  noticed  them.  It  was  chance  that  caught 
the  kite-tail  and  set  the  machinery  in  motion  ; 
but  Anatole  was  carrying  wood  into  the  library 
for  the  fire  one  afternoon,  when  a  very  demon 
of  a  wind  whirled  the  weathercock  about,  and 
the  Vicomte  exclaimed,  '  There  are  those  foot- 
steps again  ;  they  will  drive  me  crazy  ! ' 

"  This  amused  Anatole  so  much  that  he  did 
not  confess,  and  when  the  Vicomte  sent  him 
away  for  kissing  me,  he  was  vindictive  enough 
to  be  glad  that  in  restoring  the  twine  he  had 
left  a  cause  of  vexation.  When  Monsieur  Ron- 
del examined  the  turret,  and  tore  away  the 
nests  of  the  ravens,  he  took  with  them  the  piece 
of  twine,  or  else  it  has  at  last  blown  away  of 
itself,  for  the  sounds  are  heard  no  more.  I  did 
not  know  this  until  the  last  time  that  I  saw 
Anatole,  or  they  would  long  since  have  ceased." 


436  Feudal  Chateaux 

After  the  other  guests  had  left  the  chateau 
we  showed  Louis  Rondel  the  letter  we  had  re- 
ceived from  America  in  reference  to  his  own 
descent. 

We  were  alone  in  the  dining-room  and  a 
light  fire  was  burning  in  the  great  fireplace. 
He  dropped  the  letter  quickly  upon  the  bed  of 
coals.  "  Pardon  me  for  destroying  your 
friend's  communication,"  he  said,  "  but  it  is 
only  a  romance  of  his  imagination,  though  a 
very  dangerous  one.  I  would  not  have  the 
Vicomte  have  the  least  suspicion  of  this  for 
worlds.  His  is  a  generous  as  well  as  a  proud 
nature.  It  is  his  foible,  if  you  please,  to  be 
magnificent,  to  play  the  patron,  to  stoop  to 
confer  favours ;  but  he  does  it  gracefully,  and 
it  makes  him  happy  to  condescend.  He  has 
suffered  cruelly.  He  shall  never  suffer  again." 

Which  was  romance,  the  theory  of  Bradford 
Brewster  or  the  denial  of  Louis  Rondel  ? 
How  much  was  truth  and  how  much  fiction  ? 
We  can  only  answer  as  though  the  question 
were  asked  of  any  of  these  legends.  Some- 
times imagination  is  the  only  real  part  of  life, 
and  romance  truer  than  history. 


THE  END. 


&  Selection  from  the 
Catalogue  of 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 


Complete  Catalogues  sent 
on  application 


By  ELIZABETH  W.  CHAMPNEY 


Romance  of  the  French  Abbeys 

Octavo.     With  2  Colored,  9  Phot'ogravure,  50  other 
Illustrations,  and  Ornamental  Headpieces 

"A  delightful  blending  of  history,  art,  and  romance.  .  .  Many  of 
the  stories  related  are  thrilling,  and  none  the  less  exciting  because  they 
belong  to  history." — Chicago  Dial. 

Romance  of  the  Feudal  Chateaux 

Octavo.   With  40  Photogravure  and  other  Illustrations 

"  The  author  has  retold  the  legends  and  traditions  which  cluster  about 
the  chateaux  and  castles  which  have  come  down  from  the  Middle  Ages,  with 
the  skilful  touch  of  the  artist  and  the  grace  of  the  practised  writer. 
The  story  of  France  takes  on  a  new  light  as  studied  in  connection  with  the 
architecture  of  these  fortified  homes." — Christian  Intelligencer. 

Romance  of 
the  Renaissance  Chateaux 

Octavo.    With  40  Photogravure  and  other  Illustrations 

"  The  romances  of  those  beautiful  chateaux  are  placed  by  the  author  on 
the  lips  of  the  people  who  lived  in  them.  She  gives  us  a  feeling  of  intimacy 
with  characters  whose  names  belong  to  history.  — N.  Y.  Mail  and  Express 

Romance  of 
the  Bourbon  Chateaux 

Octavo.     With  Colored  Frontispiece  and   47   Photo- 
gravure and  other  Illustrations 

"  Told  with  a  keen  eye  to  the  romantic  elements  and  a  clear  understand- 
ing of  historical  significance." — Boston  Transcript 

"  It  is  a  book  that  will  be  read  with  interest  this  year  or  ten  or  twenty 
years  hence. — Hartford  Courant 

Romance  of  the  Italian  Villas 

Octavo.      With   9  Photogravure,    i  Colored,  and   44 
other  Illustrations 

Five  volumes.     Illustrated.     Each,  in  a  box,  net,  $3.00 
(By  mail,  $3.25.)    The  set,  5  volumes  in  a  box,  net,  $15.00 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

NEW  YORK  LONDON 


"  Written    with    exceptional   sympathy,    ability,    tad 
knowledge." — The  Churchman. 
By 

ELSIE  WHITLOCK  ROSE 

and 

VIDA    HUNT    FRANCIS 

CATHEDRALS   AND  CLOISTERS  OF 
THE  SOUTH   OF  FRANCE 

Provence-Languedoc-Gascony 

With  4  Photogravure  and  200  other  Illustrations  from  Origi- 
nal Photographs  and  a  Map,  2  Volumes ;  cloth  extra, 
gilt  tops,  stamped  on  side  with  full  gilt  and  color,  taxed, 
net,  $5.00. 

"One  of  the  best  books  we  have  read  for  many  a  day.  .  .  . 
Interesting  in  its  material  and  information  and  charming  in 
its  method  of  presentation  ....  To  lovers  and  students  of 
architecture,  the  illustrations  in  these  beautiful  volumes  will 
be  found  more  attractive  than  the  letterpress,  and  this  is  itself 
of  charming  quality." — London  Spectator. 

CATHEDRALS  AND  CLOISTERS  OF 
MID-LAND   FRANCE 

BurgTindy-Savoy-Dauphind-Auvergne-Acquitaine 
With  4  Photogravure  and  200  other  Illustrations  from  Origi* 
nal  Photographs  and  a  Map.      2    Volumes,  cloth  extra, 
gilt  tops,  stamped  on  side  "with  full  gilt  and  color,  boxed, 
net,  $5.00. 

These  two  volumes,  uniform  with  "  Cathedrals  of  the 
South  of  France  "  are  the  fruit  of  many  successive  summers 
spent  in  wanderings  in  ' '  rare  unspoiled  France  "  where  the 
tourist  and  his  suit-case  are  practically  unknown. 

The  authors  introduce,  in  photograph  and  story,  the 
cathedrals  of  the  Mid-land  provinces,  as  they  exist  to-day, 
with  their  architectural  and  historical  peculiarities  }  and  they 
add  incidentally  certain  illuminating  bits  of  church  politics 
and  psychology,  for  the  ecclesiastical  traditions  of  Franco  go 
back  to  the  very  first  years  of  the  Christian  era. 
Send  for  descriptive  circular 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

NEW  YORK  LONDON 


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UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


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